


I Want

by Ilya_Faina



Series: Seeker to my Soul [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:17:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 84,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilya_Faina/pseuds/Ilya_Faina
Summary: When was the last time that anyone thought of their wants? What happens when they realize them after it was almost too late?=====A different approach to when the Warrior of Darkness and Crystal Exarch return to the Crystarium after the battle with the Ascian. Emotions run high from several days of healing and only having themselves to sort them out.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: Seeker to my Soul [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615156
Comments: 48
Kudos: 115





	1. ...to Explain

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works for MONTHS and this first part of the series has been done since the beginning of the new year. I will post as I edit through it and will update this Table of Contents as new chapters come out.
> 
> There were several fics that inspired me to start writing again after not having done so for 10+ years. I'll post them at the end of each chapter, so please give them a read if you haven't already! I might also post some artist pages from Twitter as well as they have inspired me greatly too, Thank you for stopping by and giving my creation a read :)

1) Chapter 1 - I Want to Heal

The battle has been won and now it is time to go home. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, the Warrior of Darkness, A’viloh Entialpoh, and the Crystal Exarch prepare for the trek out back to the Crystarium. However, the Warrior asks something of the Exarch before they part, both unwilling to leave yet.

Author: glueskin, “everything stays right where you left it”

Artist: Endy

=====

2) Chapter 2 - I Want You to Mend

Finally arriving to the Crystarium, the Warrior prepares to heal his friend, some friends helping him start the process.

Author: Sorin, “Song of Forever”, “Cadenza”, “Daydreams”

Artist: TK

=====

3) Chapter 3 - I Want You to Wake Up

He must not fail. He cannot. He must succeed. He needed to mend him. He wanted him to heal. Wake up, wake up, wake up--!

Author: despommes, “A Timeless Lullaby”, “Cauchemar”, “Astrolabe”, “Move Me’

Artists: Gentle (@ yokiko_ff14) & @ yoshikawa_6sai

=====

4) Chapter 4 - I Want to Reach You

Almost done, just a little bit more and we can rest. Please don’t wake, I need you to warm up. Please, trust me.

Author: migratorycat, “Courage from Love”

Artist: eni (@14_enione)

=====

5) Chapter 5 - I Want to Give You Strength

Please trust me, I will be fine. You are what matters most at the moment. Even if my wounds hurt. Gods, when was the last time I ate? There’s too much on my mind, I can’t sleep. But treating you, concentrating on you, that is easy enough.

Author: Lady_Otori, “Sleep Without Dreams”

Artists: TamTia (@nawofu_mochi), https://tksnim.tumblr.com/post/187834582172/story-of-lyna comic

=====

6) Chapter 6 - I Want to Show You What is Right

_‘Forget that. You said so yourself: Damn those titles. You are your own person. Speak from the heart; shrink not from your emotions, for they are your greatest asset.’_

“How could I forget the man that made me think of life as more than just duties? As more than a trial put on me by the Twelve themselves? You were the very first who treated me as my own person and not as the title that follows me.”

_‘Pay attention to what is in front of you, not to the what ifs and maybes.’_

Author: kokuou_ji, “The Weight of Tomorrow”

Artists: @kazunokabeff; SHiROYAMI*in his garden (@Towane_18)

=====

7) Chapter 7 - I Want You to Do Things For Yourself

“It does, more than you know. It brings me much, much happiness. To be able to continue to assist in your wellbeing,” A’viloh explained, rubbing the crystal hand over his cheek now, “that brings me so much joy.”

He was tired. For 100 years he fought. He understood what his Warrior wanted, for he wanted the same for them. For them, this would be a battle that he will let himself lose. He just wanted them to get better.

_‘_ You _are right. When was the last time that you thought of your wants? Why let them get to where it is too late to have them?’_

Author: Daff_O_Dil (Daze_E_Chain) “How To Train Your G’raha Tia” & “A Bit Tipsy”

Artists: Hana_Bastien (@hana_bastien); DPS (@4cUxqem)

=====

8) Chapter 8 - I Want To Fix This

‘My body, the Gods, and now the Tower. I need to fix this--I need to fix this fast.’

All day he had those thoughts. As he traversed through his Tower, his Warrior was in his mind. As he checked every nook and cranny that wouldn’t put him in danger, he imagined his Warrior there. When he would concentrate on something else, as soon as the task was finished, images of his Warrior came up. If it weren’t for the fact that this was normal for him, he would almost be embarrassed.

“How did you know,” he desperately wanted to say, but his lips only trembled. ‘How did you know that I wanted this for so long?’

_He_ needed to get fixed.

Author: ShainaYu, “Incandescent” & "Storge"

Artists: @ff14_gokgo & @wasadnt

=====

9) Chapter 9 - I Want You to Stay

How could something so beautiful curse him so.

_‘Oh ho. I dare say that this can work in your favor, oh honorable hero. You best act on it before he slips away from your fingers once more.’_

He was striking a deal. Just like in the past.

He wanted to see them. Just a peek. One quick peek and he will leave them be.

Tomorrow. He will show him tomorrow. He needed to.

Author: KivaEmber, “Down Into Paradise”

Artists: @Hosing__FF14; @ YIDR7X_FFXIV; @ffxivys

=====

10) Chapter 10 - I Want You to Call Me By My Name

_'Because you are. We both know how much he has given himself for you. How much he has sacrificed so that you could still be here. So you could_ live. _If I have to deal with your childish dance for one more day,_ **I will end you myself __** _.'_

"I… seem to have forgotten to give you a journal. I am not sure how much you have read in any of them, they are not all that interesting--"

_‘Is that what you want?’_ They could never go back to how they were. He was the Crystal Exarch and he was the Warrior of Light/Darkness. That was who they were. That was who they had to be. At least… that was who he was.

_Yes. His body would always say yes._

Author: AuroraRayne, “Adagio” and “Throw Wide the Gates”

Artists: @forgiven_samchi & @C_E_00fff0 

**Updated 04/19/2020**

I am in shock that this story is over, haha. In all honesty, I didn’t know that this would happen. Me writing again, creating an entirely new character for this story, and finishing something. I stated very early on that I hadn’t written anything in over 10 years, let alone finished anything, so for this to be done, I’m still in shock.

But more than that, never in a million, billion years did I think that anyone would want to read my writing. And then the kudos came in, and the _comments._ And then _seeing my work get bookmarks_. I still burst into tears from the awe of it all. I will never, ever be able to thank all of you enough for coming in and giving this work a chance. And I will continuously thank each and every one of you for doing so.

I also hope that you all keep spreading the same amount of love that you have given this work to the content creators that I have mentioned above. I will never tire of saying that their works are incredible and for the amount of joy that they bring me each time I see and read what they have created. I have smiled, I have cried, I have jumped for joy and have done many more happy things because of them. They have given me a piece of happiness that I will treasure for a good time in my life and giving them praise is the least that I can do.

Setting aside the sappiness (and I do love being sappy), this series as a whole is not over, not for a long shot. I have two chapters done for the next adventure A’viloh and G’raha will share, and also have plans for another multi-chapter fic that contains one-shots of the two. Who knew that my love and admiration for a certain character would allow me to create so much, haha. And I don’t regret it one bit.

It is my hope and wish that you all will join me in the next multi-chapter fic with these two! I have much planned to where it will follow the post-Shadowbringers story along with bringing in my own twists and turns with A’viloh. We’ll see what the writers in SE bring us and how I can turn anything sad and angsty they send to us to where it can end up being good and happy :)

One last thing before we part! I uh… totally did not realize that my fic as a whole… was a slowburn. -sweats and bows- I am truly, truly sorry for that! I do not read slow burns and just… it totally slipped my mind this one would be one! I started writing this last year and finally got it done in January of this year and posted the first chapter as soon as I got it done and it just… totally slipped my mind that my fic is a slowburn ><;; Truly, truly sorry, I will change the tags to reflect that.

Again, thank you so, so much for sticking with me and taking the time to read my creation. You all are amazing people for leaving such wonderful gifts and just… thank you so, so much.

Onto the next project! Please stay safe, please stay healthy, and please be well ^^


	2. ...to Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle has been won and now it is time to go home. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, the Warrior of Darkness, A’viloh Entialpoh, and the Crystal Exarch prepare for the trek out back to the Crystarium. However, the Warrior asks something of the Exarch before they part, both unwilling to leave yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the first chapter to this series! I went through it a few times over the last few weeks, though I am sure that there are still some mistakes here and there. This is my first series in a really long time, so please go easy on me with the comments and critiques >< I hope that I can do some justice to the beloved crystal cat that has given us so much joy ever since the new expansion came out. Did you know that there were only 23 works for his tag before the expansion came out? It's wild how it's now 20x the amount.
> 
> Thanks again for stopping by and make sure to check out the work/author and artist that I post at the end that first inspired me for this series! :)

“G’raha… Hold on just a bit more, please….”

“We have made it this far… It would be… A disgrace to my people should their leader fall now…”

“...A disgrace… That is certainly one way to put it… It is not. You have… gone through much these last few days. We all have.”

Whether G’raha wanted to acknowledge those words, or simply make it seem like he did not hear from how quietly the Warrior spoke them, the brunette did not know. The little that he did at the moment was enough to keep him moving. Just like how Ardbert asked of him not too long ago.

He had defeated Hades.

The Crystal Exarch had been saved.

All of the Scions were alive.

And they were all on their way out of The Tempest.

Something curious made the Warrior almost falter: when having spoken the Exarch’s true name, he had shuddered, also losing momentum. His stance had closed, almost as if wanting to shield himself. Once he had noticed how far he was from the Warrior, he did his best to catch up, a slight limp in his step. The Warrior kept his attention elsewhere but took note of that strange happening, instead raising his head to where the surface could be seen. They only needed to climb to the water's edge and then, only then, could they be swept by the waters of Kholusia. At least, that was the theory.

“Follow my lead, Ryne. A’viloh, I expect that you will be the last to climb?”

“Yes. I will give everyone a boost. Please, keep the Exarch close to you.”

“Of course.”

“I… apologize for the burden--”

“We will have none of that, Exarch. Alisaie and I will be right behind you. You have been away from the Tower for too long. We will give you as much healing as we are able, we only ask that you keep moving forward.”

“I trust that you will keep your eyes where your hands lay, Urianger.”

“Of course, my lady.”

A’viloh couldn’t help the slight smile from appearing on his face at hearing his friends--his _family_ \--conversing normally. As if they did not just fell one akin to a god, the very same Ascian that was hellbent on making the Eighth Umbral Calamity happen in the Source. He knew that it wasn’t just for show. He could feel their nervous and grateful energy at being able to see the sky another day. It followed Alphinaud when his trembling hands grasped the strong rocks above him, lead Alisaie when she would ask the Exarch if he needed more healing magic, and stayed with Y’shtola when she kept her eyes on the calm waters looming closer. Ryne would glance down occasionally to see that everyone was clinging on with all of their might, and also to guide the Exarch’s hands to the right places. Thancred did not look their way once.

Once the Warrior saw Urianger’s hand reach the surface, he began his climb. His eyes never left the tower of rock in front of him as his mind wandered for a brief moment.

‘I musnt forget to write all of this in my journal…’

=====

His wounds were enough to keep him awake as he swam to the surface. He found Alphinaud’s face firmly planted on the wet sands of the beach, Alisaie shaking him vigorously.

“Alphinaud! For God's sakes…”

Brown eyes turned, next seeing Thancred patting the Exarch’s back as the latter tried to catch his breath. Ryne was instantly at the leader’s side, hand on his bloodied forearm as she quietly spoke to him. Y’shtola was at a distance, doing her best to wring out the water from her dress as it clung to her. Milky eyes locked with A’viloh’s, and judging from her expression, they found her target. She returned to her task of unsticking her dress from her skin, a faint smile on her pale lips.

A’viloh nodded to each head and frowned when he saw that they were one short. Honey and caramel eyes surveyed the land in front of him until they found their goal and slowly swam to the dead-fished Astrologian.

“A’viloh! There you are! Oh, and Urianger too! Is… Is he breathing…?”

Once A’viloh had gotten the weary Elezen to his feet did the Oracle of Light get an answer.

“T… T’would seem that… those lessons… mayhap would have…”

“He will be fine, Ryne,” A’viloh chidded. “How do you all fare…?” he asked, keeping Urianger steady. Strong hands gently patted the Elezen’s back until his breathing had gone steady. Tired amber eyes gave their thanks to the dark knight, nodding in reassurance.

“Aside from my aching back and Ryne’s dress being in tatters, I do believe that we are quite alive.”

A’viloh turned to the twins, Alisaie finally getting her brother up. Alphinaud’s hands went to his face and started to rub all the sand off his red cheeks, a tear or two coming down from how irritated his eyes were. He could read the twin’s lips, the poor Leveilleur cursing the saltiness of the sea. Alisaie sighed deeply and gave her brother’s back one last smack before affirming that they were alright as well.

Thancred turned to regard the leader of the Crystarium. Anyone with eyes could see that he wasn’t doing well and needed to get back to the Tower. Immediately. Gray hues tried to search for the Allagan ones, but the Exarch wouldn’t lift his head. It wasn’t until Thancred stepped closer that he could hear the rasped breathing from the leader.

The gunbreaker took another step, voice hushed as he bent down slightly. “Exarch, we are a bit far from the nearest Amarokeeper and it would not do for you to collapse now. I must ask that you get on my back, I have the strength to carry you.”

Despite his hushed voice, The Warrior of Darkness overhead his words and turned his head, fully expecting the leader to take the offer. Instead, his expression grew dark when he saw the opposite. The Exarch’s normally relaxed posture was more reclusive, trembling hands slowly wrangling in what A’viloh could only guess was nervousness. Faded ears were pinned, and if a tail could be present, he imagined it would either be curled up around one of his injured legs or between them. He saw the Exarch take two deep breaths and finally lift his head.

Allagan red pierced into the Scion’s stern ones, making them go wide. “It is true that my distance from the Tower has depleted my strength. However, if I am to return to my people, it will be by my own two feet. I need only take a bit more time to arrive.”

Thancred strengthened up, and if it had been any other situation, he would have commented on the Exarch’s stubbornness. But now was not the time nor was he in the mood to argue.

The Warrior kept his smile away at the remnants of his old friend appearing, however, it would only get them so far, no pun intended. He stepped to the Exarch’s left, the leader acknowledging him only by turning slightly in his direction. Placing his hand on the leader’s forearm, he gazed in the direction of the nearest civilization, his plan coming forward.

“Thancred, would it be too much trouble for you and Ryne to head to Wright and procure us some Amaros?” He turned his head head at the sound of footsteps, calculating, but kind eyes focusing on one of the twins, giving the next part of his plan. “Alphinaud, how do you fare with going to the Crystarium with Alisaie?”

The young Elezen tilted his head to the side, the salt water finally leaving his ears after giving them a few pats. He tried to follow the Warrior’s train of thought, but couldn’t figure out where it was heading. “We can make it, but… may I ask why just us two?”

A misstep in his plan; of course it wasn’t just those two that should go. With an apologetic smile, he answered. “My apologies. Please, inform Lyna that we are on our way back home. She will feel more at ease in seeing you both first. Knowing the Captain, she will start to prepare for our recuperation And… I have a feeling that she has people waiting at all entrances for our return, so you will not have to travel far to find her. Y’shtola, Urianger, with that being said, if you are able, inform Chessamile of the number of beds that needs be prepared. Our wounds are severe, but not life threatening.”

Alisaie blinked at how easily the instructions came from her friend. How long did it take for him to think this all through? She couldn’t help herself in voicing those thoughts, adding a bit of her spark as she crossed her soaked arms. “We have barely left you alone, how have you come up with this plan? Now that your soul is complete again, did it change you to start barking orders?” She meant well, giving the Warrior an easy smile. Tired as he was, she shouldn’t have been too surprised; he always was one to put people first.

“Bark is one way of putting it, yes… Mayhaps your soul should break once or twice to bring you down to size…” came Y’shtola’s sly comment, thankfully only amused by her friend’s orders. Should she have been miffed by him… A’viloh couldn’t help himself in giving his fellow Miqo’te a nervous smile, thinking it better to explain himself before others start bringing in their input. He looked up to the sky, his smile more natural on his lips. The sky… it might be a different sky from being in a different land, but it looked just like the one in the Source. Red hues mixing with now natural gold, the gentle blue fading away, the clouds forming shapes that he wished he could just lay down and pay attention to.

But not now. He was thinking too much now. There was too much to do, and he was thinking too quickly.

“Change me, no… But my thoughts are much clearer. That was quite a climb we had, and it made me think of what needs to be done for now” His eyes closed at that. Six beds, bandages and gauze, plenty of alcohol, healers to close the wounds once disinfected--

He turned his head towards Alisaie’s direction, mismatched brown opening to regard her with warmth. “It is much easier to think about my family and what they need. We are almost done, we need just one last push. We do not have much time to waste, and we must act quickly and efficiently. I will join the Exarch at his pace in going back to the Crystariym. Worry not, I will see that we make it back home in one piece.” A’viloh nodded, his eyes landing on each of his friends and taking into account their wounds.

Alphinaud still had salt in his eyes and his ears were a bit red from the water. His clothes were in tatters and he could see a deep bruise appearing on his side, along with some dry blood on his hands. Alisaie had a cut on her cheek and her hair was coming undone. The Warrior didn’t want to look too far down without her knowing, but he could see quite a bit of bruises on her legs as well as how she leaned her weight to her left leg. He already knew that Y’shtola’s back was bruised, and while she tried to hide her short breathing, he had a feeling that one of her ribs was broken. Urianger did his best to appear in his five senses, but from how unfocused his eyes were at times, he must have had a concussion. His clothes weren’t faring any better, cuts and bruises trailing down. Poor Ryne’s dress was indeed in tatters, her shoulders now bare and her boots only holding up by strap or two. Her hands trembled under the sleeves and she grasped them lightly at times. The ribbon in her hair was long gone, and he could see how she tried to bring her hair back now and then. Her white dress didn’t hide the bruises and cuts on her arms, and he dare not think of how her ankles were doing from how the mixture of blood and salt stayed on them. Thancred’s armor had thankfully protected him through most of the blows, just some scratches here and there, but A’viloh knew that he had a few broken bones. Was that a broken finger…?

And the Exarch… G’raha…

It wasn’t that A’viloh didn’t want to pay attention to him. Far from it. However, he knew that the moment he did, he would focus on nothing more. G’raha… his friend… He was _here_ … He was safe. And he was right next to A’viloh. From the little he could see from the corner of his eye, making sure that he was looking straight to the Scions, G’raha was looking up at him. Making what kind of expression, he did not know. But Y’shtola could see it full well. A’viloh tried to read her expression, but she was as unreadable as her eyes. And she made sure to keep it that way. Her milky hues shifted to A’viloh’s, keeping her voice steady.

“Urianger and I will inform the chirugeons on what needs be prepared. As you say, we must act quickly and effectively. I will assume that no one has any objections?”

Thancred was already on the move with Ryne right behind him, the young hume having given a bit of healing to the Exarch before patting his arm and walking quickly to catch up. The gunbreaker just wanted to scrub his damn armor clean, the tainted aether reminding him too much of his time with Lahabrea. He welcomed the young girl to his side, her pure aether keeping him focused.

Alphinaud was following the gunbreaker at his own pace, speaking quietly with Alisaie as to what should be said once they arrive. Much had happened, and much more had to be kept secret, else the city would be overcome with worry. He gave his arm to his sister, who swatted it away… until she realized that she would be walking too slowly for her own comfort, and promptly wrangled him back so that he would walk at _her_ pace. And she made damn sure to place almost all of her weight on him, her twin smiling at her antics. Y’shtola had wrapped an arm around Urianger’s as well, carefully guiding him towards the right path to Wright. The astrologian was more than willing to follow in her footsteps, although surprised by her initiative. It was not too long ago that she regarded him with scorn from how much he kept hidden from her. He knew that it would take her some time to forgive, and knew even more that she would never forget.

“....Warrior.”

A’viloh jumped at being called; he could no longer keep his gaze forward. He had given enough reason for the Scions to leave them be. They knew that there was much that the Exarch and him needed to speak about, and while now was not the time, they could still be near each other. He looked down at the leader who had not left his side. The same one that still let his hand rest on the one arm that was still made of flesh. G’raha’s gazed up at A’viloh, searching for something that A’viloh did not know of. There was still so much that he didn’t know, and more that he could if he just really put his mind to it. But now was not the time. He wanted to--

“You referred… to the Crystarium as your home. Do you truly see it that way…?”

‘Is it our home…? It is the home to many… It is… my home at the moment…’ A’viloh thought. He focused on the hand that was on the Exarch’s arm, becoming aware of how little warmth it emanated. More than that, he could see goosebumps appearing. ‘He’s freezing… ‘

“...It is my home.” A’viloh finally answered. He gazed deeply into those Allagan eyes, searching just as much as G’raha did. The leader stayed silent for a few beats, his rasped breathing along with the gentle tide of the sea being the only noise. He seemed to have found his answer--or at least was content enough with what he saw--and smiled tiredly, speaking loud enough to be heard above the waves.

“...Full glad am I to hear that. Should the people of the Crystarium know, they will be filled with joy.”

A’viloh’s tore his eyes away, trying to keep them on the faraway village. There was so much to speak about, so much that they needed to get straightened out. So much that he wanted to say.

Once they were well, talking could happen. He put his other hand on G’raha’s crystal arm, almost pulling away from how _faint_ the aether was. It was even colder, A’viloh frowning from the temperature.

“Full glad will your people be when they see _you_ back” Gaze flicking to the faded ears of the leader, he questioned. “How would you like to see them?” As much as he expected to know the answer, he didn’t, nor did he want to assume.

G’raha’s eyes went wide at the question, realizing the situation. It was true that no one had seen him without his cowl, this being the first time in… well, ever. However, so much had happened, and so many questions would arise. Nerves began to come up, his ears flicking back as he gazed down at the Warrior’s boots.

A’viloh found his answer then. His lips pulled up into a half smile, looking over at his hand. The leader… he was incredibly expressive. The Warrior couldn’t believe how _blind_ he has been for so long to not see how expressive he was. He felt the slight trembles of G’raha’s cold arms and gave them a light squeeze. G’raha instinctually looked up from the movement and found himself less than a fulm away from the Warrior. He saw how clear A’viloh’s eyes were, but more than that, how different they were. One darker than the other, both watched him with warmth and understanding.

So, so much warmth, and understanding. How he relished in the feeling after the last few days they all had.

“I am not sure how you lasted so long with your ears down. Pulling the cowl up, is that all I need to do?” came the question, both hands lightly grasping the base of said item.

It wasn’t just the distance from the Tower that made his blood run cold. His cowl. The item that he hid behind for so long and needed to go back into. It was his symbol, along with his staff. That was how everyone in the Crystarium, no, all of the First, saw him with. The Crystal Exarch was a mysterious man whom no one knew where he came from or how he looked like underneath the hood. He gave, he helped, and he lead. That was his role, and that was all he could ever be.

A’viloh’s brows furrowed at G’raha’s expression. He was shaking harder, eyes wide and… resigned. They were tired. So, so very tired.

…Ah, he knew that look too. He knew it very well.

At least, he thought he did. And he hoped that he was saying something close to what his friend wanted to hear. “...You do not need to keep it up. Not with me.” His hands left the hood, placing them on his friend’s shaking shoulders and giving them another squeeze. They came down slightly, having tensed up from the question.

Keeping his hood down with the Warrior. Keeping his hood down… 

What a wonderful dream that would be.

A’viloh lightly placed a hand on G’raha’s head, gauging how familiar he could be with the leader. G’raha jumped but said nothing, looking up at him from beneath his lashed. This was good enough.

“You will keep your cowl down when you are ready. Do not worry about your people, they will wait as much as they need to to see their beacon’s face.” He slowly spread his hand wide open, thumb and pinky slightly touching the base of his ears. G’raha’s breath hitched at the intimate action, his ears plastering to his head and the Warrior took that chance to carefully pull the cowl over G’raha’s head. His hand swiftly pulled away, bringing down the hood a bit more before keeping his hands to himself. The magicks in the hood worked immediately, only the leader’s bottom half of his face being seen. Despite that, A’viloh could feel the shock emanating from G’raha, and how he wanted to say something, but the Warrior was already onto the next step.

With his back to the leader, he kneeled as he spoke quickly, getting the next words out before his own nerves got the better of him. They needed to get going, just now remembering the fatal wound that the leader had on his back. How he was still standing, A’viloh had no idea.

“There is much that needs to be discussed, and I would love nothing more than to speak with you in private, just as… we would in the past.” He faltered at the end, his heart tugging at the lie.

_‘It isn’t entirely a lie.’_ That faint, murky voice dwelling deep in his soul reassured. Ah, there was Esteem. He had been ominously quiet during his time in Amaurot, though his presence was clearly there when fighting Hades. A’viloh was starting to worry when he could barely feel him at the end, thinking that the immense light might have done something (he wouldn’t say extinguish, but when dealing with a deadly essence that was the exact opposite of them, he could never be too careful). The dull worry in his mind lessened, acknowledging his words as relief flooded in.

No, they did not speak as much when they were at the Source, far less from all of the light that the Warrior had for so long. But now that it was gone, they should be more active...right?

Continuing, the Warrior did not spare a glance at G’raha. That word, beacon… It was one that he had not heard in a long time. Did it have the same effect on his friend as how it did for him all those years ago? “And talk we will. Once we get back to the Crystarium, and get better, we will talk. You have more days to live and now, you can decide how you would like to live them. I know that you said that you can walk on your own but… please, let me help you. Here, and back home.” When he heard no response, he willed himself to turn his head. G’raha stood there, not having moved an inch. Face still obscured, his mouth was agape and looking much paler than he was minutes ago.

Were his lungs devoid of air because of physical reasons or from the Warrior’s words? Most likely both. Talk, back home, help… They could go back home and they could talk. They could be in the same room and talk, or just, just be. Oh how he wanted that. How he _yearned_ for that.

Taking a shaky step forward, he hadn’t raised his foot high enough, gripping at air when he began to fall but the Warrior rose quickly to catch him. He landed steadily on A’viloh’s back, his arms being brought around the Warrior’s neck. As his legs were hooked, he involuntarily melted onto the Warrior’s strong back. Turning his face to the left, his hood kept jabbing into this skin, and the Warrior’s, but they made no mention. Instead, they kept going, the wind keeping him awake enough as the tiredness started to settle in.

A’viloh thanked his lucky stars at how well that went, knowing that if they had not intervened, they would have continued to talk and G’raha would have undoubtedly collapsed, making it much harder to transport them both. Once he settled into a steady rhythm, he spoke again, volume high enough to get his friend’s attention.

“When we get back, would you like for the people at the Spagyrics to treat you or myself?”

‘What of your wounds?’ he questioned in his mind. Opening his mouth, he tried to voice them, taking several tries to get the words out. So tired… so sore… 

“I will be fine. I will treat myself as well, don’t worry.”

“I… I know you… Warrior… You will… put… me above yourself…” He rasped out, his throat starting to burn. The wound on his back ached, making him curl up slightly from the movement. A’viloh took note of that and did his best to control his walk, still moving quickly but with less movement. His calves were cramping up, his back shooting up with pain along with his arms but he kept going, bending down more to bring the leader higher on his back. He apologized from how much skin he was making G’raha show and continued on, his space slightly quicker.

“I promise to take care of myself too. If I am not well, how can I take care of you?” He could see Wright in the distance, though still far away. Just a bit more…

“So please… Let me heal you. If I mend you, it will be easier to keep your physical self hidden from your people, if that is your wish. Whatever I cannot mend, I will learn how to.” He didn’t hide his desperation as he kept his brisk walk. The aether in G’raha started to wane, panic consuming some of his thought process.

He would not let himself be denied. Not again. Silver flashed in his mind, the sunset behind him reminding him of that terrible day. Not again, not again, not again--

“Who am I to deny such a request… As if… as if I could deny…” G’raha’s speech slurred, unable to keep his eyes open. His consciousness was fading, the dead trees and land melting altogether.

A’viloh felt G’raha’s hands slip, now running to the Amaro porter where Thancred and Ryne were thankfully waiting for them, the rest already for the Crystarium. As carefully as he could, he settled his unconscious friend in the front and prayed with all his might that he wasn’t too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "everything stays right where you left it" by glueskin (https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889416/chapters/47108530) was the work that inspired me to write this whole series. I love how they gave so much characters to their WoL's and I cannot wait for when they write more :) I still have the tab up on my phone for their work after all of these months, haha.
> 
> As for the artist who inspires me greatly and gives me much strength to write (and get through the day) is the very talented artist Endy (@ochentiocho). If you haven't seen their art on Twitter, please, please, please take a peek, you will not be disappointed!
> 
> Thank you for making it this far! Have a good one and be well :)


	3. ...You to Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally arriving to the Crystarium, the Warrior prepares to heal his friend, some friends helping him start the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter edited, whew! I went through it a few times, and I will go through it again tomorrow, but this it will mostly be grammatical errors. I know there's not much action happening, please bear with me! More will happen in the next few chapters :)
> 
> Thank you again for stopping by and read to the end for a mention of an amazing author and artist. Enjoy!

“A’viloh… are you absolutely certain…?”

“I will be fine, Alphinaud. My wounds are starting to mend, and I have the energy to keep going.”

Everything that the Warrior of Darkness had instructed had thankfully gone according to plan. Lyna did have soldiers posted at each entrance to the crystal city and the ones at the Amaro launch were overjoyed at seeing the twins descend. Y’shtola and Urianger were quickly taken by Chessamile and the other healers, while Alisaie preferred to take her time walking there. Her brother could only shake his head at how stubborn she was to the very end, but she was quickly carried to an empty bed once the eldest healer saw her limping into the Spagyrics. By the time A’viloh and G’raha had arrived, Lyna was waiting for them, along with the Overseers of the city. The Warrior of Darkness shared a few words with them, telling them that he would bring the Exarch to the Tower and care for him there, and let them know of his progress as time went on. The ride to the Crystarium gave him ample time to check his wounds via healing magic (bless having his soul stones on hand rather than his bag), the damage not being as severe as he originally though. He was grateful for the hood that obscured his friend’s face, though from their expressions, they knew of their leader’s condition. Still, they would not question the hero’s reasoning, that being on the perks that A’viloh was grateful for.

He followed the Captain up the stairs of the Dossal Gate and she opened the door without another word. They swiftly ascended the stairs to the Ocular and used the key that the Exarch bestowed to Lyna to open the room where A’viloh had the vision of the Exarch’s plans. Surveying the room, he was surprised at seeing a bed in the corner, somehow missing it when he first went in. When Lyna saw the Warrior’s surprised expression, she explained in not so many words that she found it when moving some of the Exarch’s books. Not one to question, he nodded and went to lay his friend on it. The Exarch’s breathing was still rasped, but it was much deeper, relieving the Warrior. Having felt his quick breathing against his back as they flew more than unnerved him, that being enough to realize how close the Exarch was to losing his life. Sharing a look with Lyna, he explained how the Exarch did not want to reveal his face to his people, at least not yet. He further explained that he had asked the Exarch permission to heal him, which was granted to him. A’viloh would have continued were it not for Lyna lifting a hand up to stop him. Her pink eyes never left the Exarch’s hooded face, his breathing almost deafening, despite the sound barely reaching the door.

“You have more than proven yourself to the people of Norvrandt, Warrior. If I may speak on behalf of the people of the Crystarium… do all that you can to make him as hale as he was when he left these walls. Any materials that you need, they will be yours. He is our first priority and always will be.” Despite how clear her words were, her expression said otherwise. She wanted to be strong for the Exarch… for her paternal family member. She needed to be strong. But it was so hard when she saw him in that state. What happened to have left him so weak? What little skin she could see, there was blood, dirty, sand, and wounds. His sandals had come undone, the leather straps on his left arm were slipping off, and whatever God was out there would know if his tunic could be mended. She forced her gaze back to the Warrior, stepping closer to speak for his ears only.

“He trusts you more than anyone else I know. As do I. So please… please see to him. Call me whenever you wish, and I will come running. Ask anything of me, and I will do it. It is the least I… could do for the one that I see as family. If I can see the smile that he gave your way the first time that he laid eyes on you once more… That will be all that I will ever need in my life time.” The Captain finished.

A’viloh didn’t know whether to give Lyna a handkerchief from the tears that spilled at that revelation, or embrace her in reassurance. That look in her eyes told him that she needed none of those and only wanted to say her piece; she wanted to say that to him before he left to rescue the Exarch, and now she could. Schooling back his expression, he nodded and promised what was in his heart and mind. Using the back of a parchment that he found on the floor (which he hoped was to be tossed), he wrote down everything that he needed for the time being, along with what could be brought early in the morning. Lyna assured him that he would have the latter in no more than 2 bells and that she would personally bring the former in less than 1. It was in the middle of the first one that A’viloh had the brilliant idea of trying out the Linkpearl to speak with the male Leveilleur. It thankfully worked and they spoke in length of what had transpired when him and Alisaie arrived.

“I understand that the Exarch trusts you, as do we, my friend, but you shouldn’t heal him on your own… Is there naught that the chirugeons here can do…?”

“From what I can see, we should not worry as much about what can be seen. There are some cuts that I can disinfect and bandage up myself. What I _am_ more worried about is…” A’viloh trailed off. His hand was on G’raha’s ankle, having taken off his sandals as soon as Lyna had left the room. The bed was nothing grand, only fitting one body and having a single sheet and pillow. It had some dust, most likely from the books that Lyna lifted off, but it sufficed for the time being. A’viloh sat at the very edge of the bed, not wanting to take up any more space than necessary. He knew that the leader needed to be in the Tower from how linked they were to one another, but he wasn’t entirely sure how; and he didn’t want to disrupt that flow.

Alphinaud noticed his friend’s silence, understanding his hesitation. That scene was one that everyone wished they could forget. How the Exarch was more than willing to give up his life for the Warrior to be relieved of the Light. How Emet-Selch appeared, and stopped those actions, but at the cost of a bullet to the back. Alphinaud knew of the man’s crystal condition, and he suspected it was the crystal that saved his life. As far as he knew, that bullet was still embedded there…

A’viloh blinked when the Elezen’s quiet question came through the linkpearl. “Do you perchance know of how deep the wound is…?” Slowly getting off the bed, his hand came up behind the sleeping miqo’te, pressing down on the cushion as he leaned over to try to get a better look at the wound. A sharp exhale came out, not being able to see much of the wound from the fabric sticking close to the found. Running a hand through his brown hair, he carefully sat back down, hand coming back to rest on his friend’s cold ankle.

“I unfortunately cannot. I am waiting on Lyna to come back with the immediate medical supplies before I undress him. She will be coming any moment, and I do not want to keep you from resting. Before I forget… Alphinaud, please, do not tell anyone of the Exarch’s appearance, nor his name. I am sure that he would like to tell everyone in person, or at least… confront those that have already seen him.”

“Be at ease, my friend. Not a single word will come out of my lips in regards to the Exarch. I will relay our conversation with the rest of the Scions in private. Do tell Chessamile if you are in need of her assistance in getting that bullet out of him, or if not. That knowledge is not just for our relief but for theirs. Some of the healers are already talking amongst themselves and I would not be surprised if they request access into the Tower to tend to their leader.”

The Warrior of Darkness couldn’t help but smile sadly. They truly did love him. How could they not? The Crystal Exarch gave them the home that they needed when the Sin Eaters came to be. The Tower was their refuge, the actual light that they needed. It was the beacon of hope that G’raha Tia had hoped the Tower could become. And become it did.

“I will tell her immediately. Please, rest for now. You have done admirably, and I… I am grateful to all of the Twelve that you are all alive. Talk can happen another day. Please, get comfortable and let the healers do their work.” A’viloh’s eyes softened. Here he was saying that talk should happen another day, getting deja vu. Just as he did with his friend, he let out his gratitude. One last bit should be enough, along with some endearment.

“And… thank you, Alphy. For all that you have done and for all that I know you will do. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Have pleasant dreams..” The Leveilleur twin did his best to stifle his gasp but it could still be heard via the linkpearl. The Warrior’s relationship with the twins was a strong one and he knew that they looked up to him immensely, which is why he would always praise the twins, not only because he truly meant it, but also from them deserving to hear it. They did more for him and the Scions than they let on and would only say half of their accomplishments; when he found that out, he made damn sure to take them under his wing. He treated them with the same respect that he gave the other “adults” but also coddled them every now and then. He hoped that his words hit the male twin’s heart just as much as if his sister had told them to him, his smile going soft.

“...A… A good night to you as well, my friend. Do not stay up too late and please… may you also rest. Twelve knows that you need it.” Came Alphinaud’s reply, voice cracking halfway before the connection was broken.

Quick footsteps were heard towards the direction of the Ocular, Lyna pushing the door open with her shoulder. A heavy looking box along with a large bag was obscuring her vision, but she set everything down as if it was only parchment paper. She was breathing heavily through her nose, that being the only indication of the box’s true weight and placed the bag in front of A’viloh. Using a heavy knife, she quickly opened the box and pointed to each item, fumbling with the ones that could not be seen immediately.

“We are in luck, Warrior. The chirurgeons had in hand everything that you listed. In that bag are the ingredients that you requested and here are the tools used for minor surgery. In that box are sterile bandages and rags, while that box contains antiseptics. The smaller bags contain the empty bottles and the like. The more… flammable contents are at the bottom, protected by minor magick. Is there anything else that you require?”

Caramel ears perked up at all of the different goodies that he was brought, his scholar self already formulating the different ways that he could use all of the materials. The Bunsen burner must be at the bottom… Oh, there was the pestle and mortar. It wasn’t until his tail accidentally bumped into the person sleeping next to him that he realized how much he was gawking at everything. Lyna did not interrupt his thoughts, gaze expectant from awaiting more orders. Shaking his head quickly, the Warrior rose and set to sheepishly taking out the contents of the box.

“This should be more than enough for the moment. Thank you, Lyna. I will keep you posted on all of the developments with him. So far, he has been sleeping as well as one could with the wounds that he has. I checked some of them, and the external ones seem to be minor. What he truly needs is rest.” Lyna once again kept her eyes on her sleeping guardian when A’viloh gave his report. Her eyes were clear, but still largely unreadable. After a breath, she nodded.

“I will come back a few bells after the sun rises. You know what line I am on should you need me, correct?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good. Before I forget.” Lyna stepped forward, bringing her right hand out and into A’viloh’s view. He blinked a few times when he saw the fist and lifted his head from the box. Slowly, he brought up his palm. A small weight landed on it and when he brought the item into view, he saw that it a small crystal key. It was the same color as the Ocular’s walls and he made the connection instantly: it was the same key that G’raha had bestowed to Lyna before he left. Small as it was, it was still warm and held more than it showed.

Trust. She was fully trusting him with the contents of the Tower.

“Are you… are you sure in giving this to me…?” A’viloh asked quietly. He knew that he was stepping way over his boundaries. First he was keeping the Exarch away from his people. Next, he was being given the key to answering many of his questions. How much more would he be given…?

“Full sure, Warrior. This key… I believe that he wanted you to have it. I just happen to be the first to reach him,” came Lyna’s stern reply. 

“Remember, I will come late in the morning. Do not hesitate to call me should you need anything else.” And with that, she turned on her heel, quietly closing the door behind her.

Now alone in the room, A’viloh waited until he could no longer hear the Captain’s footsteps. Turning his head to look at the sleeping leader, he lifted his hand from his ankle and inspected his wounds once more. Several cuts were on his legs and arms, still dirty with blood and salt despite the long dip they had in the sea.

 _‘You can be yourself now.’_ A’viloh paused, hand hovering over his pocket. Icy relief flooded into his veins, shuddering from the voice. They were getting stronger, something that he welcomed with open arms. However, their words made them slightly weary. Yes, they were alone, but--

_‘She will not come back until morning. Be at ease.’_

He trusted him. If Esteem told him it was alright, then it was. His tired shoulders relaxed, swiveling ears slowing down. Yes, yes, it will be alright.

“Let’s get you out of those clothes, shall we…” Standing a bit aways, he dipped his hand into his inner coat pocket and pulled out the soul stone belonging to that of the former Scholars, tucking his dark knight soul stone away. He thanked Fray for giving him strength in transporting the Exarch, as well as for the reassurance. With his magic now heightened, he laid his hands just ilms away from the sleeping Miqo’te, and let his aether do a more thorough inspection. Hands slowly moved to the Exarch’s backside and they stiffened when he felt the corrupted aether. It was undeniable that the bullet belonged to that of the Ascian, the foreign object feeling _wrong._ He brought his hands back down, sleeves lightly brushing against the Exarch’s red tattered tunic.

‘This bed is not enough. Surely… surely there must be other rooms in the Tower…’

He shoved his hand back into his coat pocket, picking out his summoner soul stone. He would not leave his friend alone, and he knew just the partner that would keep his friend company.

“Come on out, Lizette.” Writing out the necessary spell, his partner in crime appeared from a rainbow of colors. The red carbuncle shook her coat once, getting accustomed to the room around her before finally sitting obediently on her owner’s feet. A’viloh smiled brightly at the first friend that joined him on his long journey all of those years ago. Despite him using Esteem more often these days, it seemed that his other friend did not mind and was still willing to follow him to the ends of the earth. Bending down, he lovingly scratched her ears and then under her chin. She chirruped in glee, tail curling up around her feet.

“Lizette, I need to find a more suitable room for him. Stay at his side and keep him warm, will you? If anything happens, you come straight to me.” He scratched behind her ears again, her chirruping once more in understanding. “Come around his feet, he has a nasty wound on his back.” He picked up his furry friend and placed her close to them as she did as she was told. The Warrior nodded at her and swiftly left the room, making sure to keep the door wide open for Lizette to get out from should anything happen. He hoped that nothing would.

Running across the Ocular, he inserted the key into the other door as gently as he could, hearing a faint click. As he pressed against the wooden door, he was quickly met with an immovable wall. He shoved a few more times, finding nothing to pull. Bracing himself against the door, he attempted to transfer some of his aether into golden opening--nothing. Was he only allowed into that tiny room…?

“You… you said that you wouldn’t deny my request… So… so why…? Why won’t you let me in…?” The Tower was connected to him. He said back on the shores of Kholusia that he would let A’viloh treat him. Why was he being denied? Were those words just for that moment…? A’viloh could no longer see the door in front of him, vision clouded by tears. He wanted to help his friend and give him just as much as what he was given here in the First. He deserved that and more. He _needed_ that and _more_. Trembling hands fisted against the door and A’viloh put some of his weight on the contraption, forehead thumping lightly on the crystal.

“G’raha Tia… I beseech you… Let me in… That room… It’s too small. Let me find something more suitable for your recovery. I swear to only touch that what is needed and nothing more. Please. Please, please, please… Just let me in--” By some grace of the Twelve did the doors finally open. Or maybe it was because of much A’viloh pleaded. Whatever the case, A’viloh caught himself before he cut open his chin and ran straight inside, only coming back to pull out the key for if he needed it.

A room similar to the Ocular laid on the other side, but much larger and with more doors. With pinned back ears, A’viloh looked around, seeing how much larger everything was. The crystal walls were dimmer but did naught to make the room feel smaller. Natural light, or so he thought it could be deemed that, filtered in from a small opening on the ceiling. On his right, a grand pillar tried to hide the humongous golden elevator that lead who knows where. On his left, four identical doors called to him. And in front of him was an incredible staircase, the top obscured by shadows. He decided to go clockwise with his investigation, the first door leading into what could only be described as some type of lounging area. The area was mostly barren with the exception of a couch, a few potted plants, and a table with two chairs. The second door led to a bathroom. His eyes flew open at the ginormous pool that took up a third of the room. Closest to the door was a wash basin, toilet, and shower head that any normal person could use. There was barely any personality in that room as well. The third door took him to what he needed. A room befitting a historian laid inside, a still too large bed some ways in front of him that seemed largely untouched, but the room was filled to the brim with life. Books were stacked as far as a Miqo’te could still reach the top, all various sizes and colors. On the right of the large desk closest to the door were more books, some opened while others carefully stacked. All types of parchment were on the left, some having fallen and laying unceremoniously on the floor. Even the small chair was stacked with books. A’viloh only took note of what was closest to him and sprinted to the last room. He had left his two friends alone for too much time, and counted his blessings at Lizette not scampering in. He only had to peek in to see that it was the kitchen area and promptly closed it, full on running back to the red-haired Miqo’te.

He sighed deeply in relief that finding Lizette right where he left her. Judging from her relaxed position, G’raha’s condition did not change for the worse, but it was not for the better either. With a flick of his wrist, Lizette’s form changed to that of the Titan-egi, the two of them working together to place the Exarch on A’viloh’s back. They took their time with the process, quick pants being their only indication of the Exarch’s pain. He still didn’t wake, no matter how much they jostled him. A’viloh didn’t want to imagine the leader’s pained cries or tears either; he had seen enough of pain for one day. Ordering Titan to stack the bag of ingredients on the large box, it took even longer for A’viloh and Titan to get back to the bedroom A’viloh found from how difficult it was to control Titan’s movements and his own. They had to be gentle with everything they carried, the summoner needing to look down at his feet and state out loud which foot to place over the other. By the time they arrived, the Warrior of Darkness was exhausted mentally.

Placing the Exarch on his side, the Warrior began the painstaking task in removing the ornaments on the tunic along with the clothing itself. He refused to leave his friend with any remnants of the battle that they just won; a Miqo’te’s nose was more potent than a normal nose and he couldn’t count the number of times he wished that someone would remove his battered armor from him when being healed. He didn’t need that reminder of the battles that he could have lost or how much he went through to win them. He always held his tongue, knowing that he should be grateful in receiving any healing at all, but that didn’t mean that anyone else should have to suffer through his same fate.

He found a pair of clean cotton trousers in his bag and slipped them on the Exarch. Changing once more to his scholar form, he summoned Eos for the extra light and helping hand that he knew that he needed. But even then, that wasn’t enough. Looking around the room, he found lamps but no light source to them. _He must be able to control the light in here, and only him._ Rubbing a finger under his chin in thought, he pondered at what else he could use as a light source.

‘Parchment paper is out of the question, I’ll just create an uncontrollable fire… The Bunsen burner would be too dangerous…’

Eos saw how deep in thought her master was in and bobbed around the room here and there to get accustomed to the space, just like how Lizette did. A’viloh’s tired eyes followed his fairy, more furniture coming in to view but he did not keep tabs on all that was illuminated.

‘Illuminated…’

Snapping his fingers, Eos quickly came back to him from thinking that he needed her. Muttering an apology, A’viloh placed a hand on his chest as he began to conjure up the image of a warm friend. One that would always create a fiery glow on his tomes when he needed it, and its counterpart cast a gentle hue to help him sleep at night when the day’s events were too distracting in his mind. Within seconds, his Wind-up-Sun appeared, nearly blinding him until he moved it farther up. If he could not turn on a light, then he would just have to create it.

In a matter of minutes, he washed his hands as thoroughly as he could, changed into the cleanest clothes that he could find, and set about to extracting the bullet from G’raha’s back. It was at this time that he really inspected his friend’s back, more so how far the crystallization spread to his body. As he thought, his right side was mostly covered, such as his hand, arm, shoulder, and part of his neck. The crystal took over the entire top portion of his back, that being what saved him, and then decided to slow down it’s path on his left side. His left shoulder was starting to get be enveloped, judging from how thin the crystal appeared, and stopped on the left side of his neck. Nape and Adam’s apple remain largely untouched, surprising A’viloh with the relief he felt from that. Going back down, the crystal took over his right hip entirely but no more than that. His entire front, at least what he could see in the darkness, remained that of flesh and blood.

He made a point to only pay attention to what was needed. His friend’s body was not a specimen. He was a man that still had a heart beat, still had a conscience, and was his own person. If G’raha wished to show him what he had become, he would accept the decision with open arms. If he did not, A’viloh would accept that too. All that he was, all that he became… it was for him. It was for the Warrior of Darkness that he tried so desperately to bring to the First. It was for that hero that was written in those books and talked about while the Eighth Umbral Calamity was happening around them. It was all for that person. And he would be that person for G’raha. It is the least that he deserved after all of the sacrifices that he made.

Shaking his head, A’viloh knew that precious time was ticking as he let those frivolous thoughts overtake his mind. He knew that it was also from the nerves overtaking him. The large wound on G’raha’s back was horrendous,, cracked crystal surrounding the wound as different hues of red seemed to pulsate underneath. It was G’raha’s aether trying to mend itself and A’viloh imagined that it was the will of the Tower making it so too. Taking a deep breath, he began to make the anesthetic potion to hopefully numb whatever flesh was under the crystal, formulating a plan in his mind on how to extract that bullet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the authors that I have admired deeply is Sorin and their works, "Song of Forever", "Cadenza", and "Daydreams". They helped me make the jump in writing about my own WoL and I can't wait for more of their writing to come out. Please give those works (and the others that they have) a read; they're incredible!
> 
> An amazing artist that I am always excited to see on my Twitter feed is TK (@tksnim_art). Their works really put into perspective what I think some of us wish we can put on paper. Take your time with their art, they have many works and lots of detail in them.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for stopping by and giving this chapter a chance. Have a good one and please be well :)


	4. ...You to Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He must not fail. He cannot. He must succeed. He needed to mend him. He wanted him to heal. Wake up, wake up, wake up--!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for this series! I went through this half-way once and then a full one a week later, so I hope there aren't too many mistakes! There's a bit more action in this one, and the ball will start with this chapter. Excuse the abrupt ending, I had to cut it in half else the chapter would be too long. Not to worry, they get longer down the road :)
> 
> Also, apologies any spelling errors, I was determined to get this out before going to bed and working the next day, haha.
> 
> Thank you so much again for giving my work a chance. Please stick to the end to see who the author is that gave me the idea to this series along with an artist that I always enjoy seeing their art.
> 
> Please enjoy! :)

A’viloh didn’t know how long it took to get the bullet out, only that it was a while from how drained he felt. His hypothesis was correct in how the Tower was making G’raha’s body mend on its own, some of the crystal getting to grow on the wound. His legs were numb to the point of aching but he refused to move until he extracted the foreign object along with the tainted crystal that was now around the hole. His anesthetic worked well enough, G’raha groaning here and there when A’viloh reached deep enough to remove the crystal as it was technically _his flesh now_ but otherwise didn’t stir when the bullet was taken out. He was astonished at how strong the crystal was, the object having imbedded itself only 2 inches deep. It also helped that it was a pretty hefty size, not that it made the Warrior’s thoughts on Emet-Selch change. He tucked those away into the recesses of his mind, keeping himself focused on his task. Everything was going well until he tried to heal the wound.

It wasn’t closing.

No matter what healing spells he used, no matter how much Eos or even Seraph healed, the wound would not close. It was true that he relied more on arcanist magick but even white magicks did nothing. The Tower was more finicky than he thought and he needed to change his strategy. Since the structure was Allagan in nature, he needed to find books with Allagan healing; at least, that was the theory. And that meant that the books were to be in the Allagan language. Thankfully, the majority, is not all, of the books in G’raha’s room were Allagan texts. A’viloh knew that he only had to look for spines that contained the Allagan symbols for “healing” and he could handle the rest. Eos stayed by G’raha’s side as the Warrior and his Wind-up-Sun scoured every corner of the room. He felt Eos heal G’raha here and there, but the only wounds that were affected were the ones on his flesh. He was grateful nonetheless for the attempts and left the fairy to her own devices. He found several books with those symbols and upon closer inspection of the diagrams in them, he honed his attention on two of them. He thanked his lucky stars in finding a book that could translate Allagan symbol’s on G’raha’s desk and started to loosely make sense of the thinner book of the two when he began to hear noise.

Brown ears perked up at the distant sound of footsteps. A faint voice came after and he swore that he heard his name. Ordering his minion and fairy to stay, he took his weapon tome with him and quickly left the room. The closer he got to the Ocular, the clearer he heard his name, recognizing the voice to be Lyna’s.

‘Did I really stay up all night…?’

Slowly opening the doors, he was face to chest with a more wide awake Captain. Her pink eyes immediately changed from alert to concern, noticing how the Warrior shielded his eyes from the glow of the Ocular. Her concern reached his ears as she inspected him further.

“Warrior… I would have hoped that you did find some rest when you were done, but it seems that did not happen… You look about ready to collapse.”

A’viloh squinted up at the Captain, still needing to shield his eyes and could only offer her a weak smile. He couldn’t speak of all the details less she panic but he still had to say something of the Exarch’s condition.

“I am just about done with him and I couldn’t stop with how far I got. I only need to clean him up and he will be good as rain.” At that moment, titles did not matter. Lyna did not stop her shoulders from sagging in relief and her eyes softened up considerably at the news she was given. Placing a hand over her heart, she whispered to herself what A’viloh swore was a prayer of thanks and her eyes focused on the room behind him.

“Is he… awake?” A’viloh’s shoulders sagged as well, but not with the relief that Lyna felt. He turned his head to look behind him as well.

“Not yet… I do believe that he will be sleeping for a few days. I… do not think that he was sleeping much before he left. His body and mind will most likely want to catch up on all of those sleepless nights.” Turning forward, he gave Lyna the most reassuring smile he could muster at the moment.

“What I can confirm to you is that he will be fine. The worst has past and I will call you as soon as he wakes up. I used some of the materials that you provided to me, thank you for bringing them so quickly.” He placed a hand on Lyna’s arm and squeezed. Everyone knew that out of all of the people in the Crystarium, Lyna worried about the Exarch the most. How could she not? He was all she had when it came to family. If A’viloh could reassure her for the time being, then that would help his nerves as well. The only thing he needed to do was close that wound on G’raha’s back as much as he could, clean him up from all the dirt and blood, and his body would take care of the rest.

That was all Lyna needed. Her ears stood up on high alert once more, her back straightened up, and her eyes took on the glow of her position. True to her word, she trusted the Warrior of Darkness, and would leave her grandfather in his hands. A’viloh squeezed her arm once more and placed his hand on his hip, wiggling his ears from the atmosphere changing for the better. 

Smiling brightly, he continued,“If anything happens, which nothing should, I will contact you in a few days. By then, he will be awake, washed, and fed. How does that sound?”

A quick exhale left Lyna’s nose, most likely a snort, and crossed her arms over her chest. Her tone of voice was that of Captain Lyna, the very same person who almost did not let him pass through those gates all of those months ago, and made A’viloh straighten up instantly. “Spoken like a true healer, Warrior. I expect a good report from you. Do not disappoint me. I will keep the Crystarium running on behalf of the Exarch, as he would expect me to do. I will repeat myself once more: anything that you require, do not hesitate to contact me.”

Giving the Crystarium salute, she asked, “By your leave…?”

A’viloh nodded, saluting back. “Keep the Crystarium running at a 100%, Captain Lyna. Fare you well.” Turning on their heels at the same time, they left for their respective duties, Lyna walking out of the Ocular calmly while A’viloh more than tripped back to G’raha’s room.

=====

Many bells passed as A’viloh worked to perfect the potion that would assist in the process of closing the Exarch’s wound. The makings of it was the less time consuming part; translating the Allagan text to a language that he could understand, that was the hardest part. As he suspected, the book with the most answers also contained many diagrams to various tonics, salves, potions, and magicks that he couldn’t even begin to conjure up. It was absolutely fascinating and made a mental note to go through the texts in more detail whenever time permitted; if he would be given the chance to touch or peer into such a tome again, that is. This all belonged to the Allagan empire that was no more, and by default, belonged to the last person that had that blood running through their veins. He knew that such texts should only be viewed by certain people and he felt almost dirty in having analyzed such almost forbidden texts. But this was for his friend, and he would justify his actions once he awoke, should he need to. Though, if he allowed himself to admit it, there were a few words that he did not understand. It did not help that the end text was smaller and had faded brown (red?) tint to it. A warning, perhaps? He prayed not.

Letting the potion cool, his attention turned back to the Exarch. His breathing had evened out considerably, his now clean face more peaceful than before. Many of his wounds were addressed, having received a quick sponge bath to get rid of the remnants of what transpired days before. Wraps covered certain parts of the Crystarium leader, a significant one around his tender forehead. A’viloh surmised the wound was from either the Exarch making contact with something, or some _one_ , or the other way around. In his heart, he hoped for the former. All other cuts were quickly healed up by Eos and all that was left were the inevitable bruises that would consume his flesh; he hoped even more that they would disappear quickly.

Eos not only healed the Exarch to the best of her ability, but also tended to A’viloh’s wounds. Despite appearing well enough on the outside, there was only so much that weak Embraces could do. Throughout the potion making process, the adrenaline that kept him going over the night had begun to fade, strongly reminding him of _his_ wounds that he kept neglecting. He apologized after each Embrace, Eos shutting him up after the fifth one by making him sneeze with her aetheric magick dust.

Hades had definitely done his worst to the Warrior. The power the Ascian had over darkness was immense, having altered the space around the Warrior and his companions time and time again. He could still feel the tight hold over his neck and how helpless he felt when the god binded him over and over, how the waves of darkness would push him to the edge, literally, and how he had to quickly leap to the side continuously to dodge the many spears and claws sent his way. But more than that, his bones ached with how many times he had to endure Hades attacks so that his fellow companions could live. Such was the life of a dark knight, he knew that; it was still little solace for the pain that wracked his body in the disturbing battle.

The tips of his fingers pressed lightly to his right side, the tainted aether still lingering on the surface of the three deep gashes he acquired. They coagulated when the Light left his body, along with other wounds, but the aether _burned._ Hades made damn sure to leave some type of memoir on A’viloh’s body and by the seven hells did he deliver. The impact of the Ascian’s claws tearing his skin also broke a few ribs, the dark knight on purpose letting that happen so that he could protect the astrologian and bard that could not get away from the attack on time.

Stifling a yawn, A’viloh reached for potion, only for searing pain to envelop his entire left shoulder and upper back. His reflexes kicked in as his hands gripped the edge of G’raha’s desk. The pain was intense enough to make him go on his knees and lean onto the drawers, curling up enough to where his forehead supported him. He could hear the flustering of Eos wings as she flew over to him at the speed of light, a series of powerful healing spells showering him.

How did he forget the wound that Innocence gave him? The Lightwarden was another who wished to leave a permanent mark on the Warrior’s body and did so by stabbing his left shoulder. Another move that A’viloh made on purpose, that time to distract the arrogant “god” from dealing the finishing blow to the monk that had received too much damage from the pillars of light that would envelop them every so often. He gladly took the attack and the monk apologized profusely once they caught their breath, but they were both relieved at being able to see another day. His companions mended the wound and others he received to the best of their ability, but he knew that was one of the flesh wounds that would take a while to fully heal.

Calloused fingers pressed down on the wound, using that pain to make it so that it would only be sore, and soothingly calmed Eos down from her fervent healing, less she exhaust herself to the point of disappearing to her realm. He waited until the pain lessened to where he could properly stand and be able to grip the potion with steady hands. A deep sigh left him as he held his most precious creation. The concoction was starting to harden, a curse leaving A’viloh’s chapped lips. It would harden at the slight touch of heat, so he gripped the bottle from the top and quickly went to the Exarch’s sleeping form. He whispered a prayer to all of the Twelve, nerves starting to kick in.

He had no idea if this would work and he banished the darker thoughts that threatened to plague his mind. He followed the instructions to the very last letter, ignoring the smaller faded text at the bottom of the page, made several versions of the potion from how difficult it was to get the ingredients to react _just_ right from the numerous substitutes he had to use, and even tested it on one of his own minor flesh wounds. His aether reacted immediately to it, the wound closing up in a matter of seconds but left a strong smell on his nose.

_‘You are no fool, A’viloh. You have treated all kinds of illnesses and have saved many from the brink of death. You would never do anything to hurt him. Not ever._ ’ Esteem meant well, he knew that. Still, not even he could blame him for the nerves that made his body shake.

His trembling fingers slowly tipped the mushy potion as close to the wound as he could. The book stated that it should be poured in a bit at a time so as to let the body first get accustomed to the strong medicine. He set the bottle a little aways from G’raha’s sleeping form, bringing his Sun closer to the wound. Many tense minutes passed, nothing changing. There was still a hole, there was still red around it, G’raha was still shallowly breathing…

Just a little more waiting. Surely… surely it will work.

...Surely...

He waited for several ticks of the chronometer to pass until his beating heart matched the device. His ears pinned down, earrings tinkling softly. Nothing. Nothing was happening.

Had he really failed…? He did everything right… He got the liquid color the book asked for, he let it boil for the right amount of time, he… he… He tested it…!

Bruised knees hit the ground harder than before, the pain his body felt being nowhere near the pain he felt in his heart. He was at eye level with the Exarch, his peaceful face becoming obscured by the tears that dripped down A’viloh’s face. The Exarch believed in him so heavily to the point of where he changed time itself for A’viloh to once again live. He was ready to give his life for A’viloh to live. He did everything in his power and more to ensure the salvation of two realms.

And here was the Warrior of Darkness, unable to make the potion that could save him. Unable to save the person who… who left him so long ago. The one that he wanted to stay by his side the most.

He failed.

It took him a few beats to realize that the sounds surrounding the room were coming from him. Sob erupted from his lips, letting out just a piece of the pain that drowned his heart. His strength completely left him as he fell forward to the side of the bed, Eos and his Sun disappearing right after from his lack of strength at keeping them in his realm, and left him with his soon to be deceased friend. He moved closer to the barely breathing Exarch, making full sure to keep his dirty hands away. Lifting his head from the tear-stained sheets, the drops began to land on G’raha’s pale face. He should have looked away, should have kept him dry, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. If these were the last moments of the Crystal Exarch, he wanted to commit to memory his peaceful expression.

‘You are finally here, and now… now you are leaving me again… _I_ made you leave again... ’

Slowly, so very slowly, he lowered his face close to theirs and gently nuzzled his wet cheek, whispering pitiful apologies. He was so cold still. Just as cold as A’viloh once was to him. Now he was the one touching his friend. Now he could touch him, touch the person who left him so long ago, and his friend would never know. Never.

Moving lower, he pressed his face into that crystal flesh of his, mind swirling as he began to think too much. No amount of words or actions would fix the situation, would heal his friend, would make the Exarch take back up his position, would make G’raha open his eyes…

Where did he fail? How did he fail? How _could he fail--_

_‘...He is not gone. Do you not see it?’_

‘See it…?’

...Aether. He didn’t have to see it to feel it. He could feel aether right below him…!

Because of his face being tucked into G’raha’s neck, he failed to notice the faint glow that emanated from the wound. It wasn’t until the glow spread throughout G’raha’s crystal portions of his body did A’viloh lift his head. Blinking back tears, brown eyes widened to the size of saucers, flickering all over the Exarch’s form.

“He’s… he’s glowing… That means… that means it’s working…!”

_‘Yes, it is. Hurry…!’_

He almost lost his footing from how quickly he sprung up, snatching the potion from behind the Exarch and poured more in. As the book instructed, the earlier portion had fully absorbed into his body, and made his body glow from his aether reacting to the medicine. A’viloh administered the medication until his friend’s battered body had absorbed all of it. By the time he emptied the vile, the Warrior was tired in mind, body, and spirit, no longer able to push back his exhaustion. The book stated that it would take several bells for the body to start mending on its own but A’viloh could see tiny crystals beginning to form around the clean wound. Taking that as a good sign, he took off the metal chronometer from G’raha’s desk, set it to wake him in a few bells and crawled to the farthest corner in the room. He still had tainted aether on him and didn’t want it to impede on the Exarch’s healing. Curling up on his left side, not even the pain from his left shoulder stopped him from passing out from exhaustion, mind too far gone to let his usual nightmares over take him.

=====

‘Where is this…?’

A faint ticking reached his red ears. The noise grew louder the closer he got to waking, slightly annoyed but also grateful as it guided his murky conscience. Several clicks passed before his mind was ready enough to start thinking.

‘Ah… that noise… it is a… clock… That slight hiccup… Is it… my clock…?’

The Exarch’s mind began to formulate a hypothesis, logic instantly taking over.

‘I must be dreaming. Surely I cannot be back… We… The Warrior… He defeated the Ascian. I assisted in… bringing others like him through the rift to… The Scions and the Warrior… That white Auracite…’

_“Good Morning, G’raha Tia.”_

That single sentence halted his flow of thoughts. Good Morning… Good Morning… They had seen the rising sun. The Warrior… His… _His Warrior_ … 

_“...It is my home.”_ He said that… he said the Crystarium was his home.

_“There is much that needs to be discussed, and I would love nothing more than to speak with you in private, just as… we would in the past.”_ Oh how his heart ached. In the past… they have changed in so many different ways, things could not be like how it was in the past. They had become friends… friends… Why did his heart ache so…? It was so, so painful.

_“I… I know you… Warrior… You will… put… me above yourself…”_ He had said that, didn’t he. Since when was he this stubborn? When was the last time he let himself _be_ this stubborn? 

_Just as we would in the past._

The past. Yes, how stubborn they both were in the past, with his--the Warrior not having wanted to be in the same tent as him when they were uncovering the secrets--both big and small--that the Crystal Tower held from the Warrior not wanting to intrude on G’raha’s space. Cid had made it very clear that they would all sleep with a roof over their heads, even if the roof was a shared tarp. It wasn’t until G’raha practically shoved the Warrior into his tent, as it was arranged from the very start, slipped the Warrior’s bag off his shoulders before the Warrior could even get his bearings and declared, more so from annoyance, that he would throw the Warrior’s bag over the highest point in the Singing Shards unless he agreed to shut his mouth and agree to share the damn tent. He barely knew the Warrior at that point, but preferred to deal with him rather than Cid’s insistent whining. He had heard it enough from working so closely to the old geezer.

Oh, how wrong he was. The cold look he received from the Warrior was enough to chill over a fire sprite, his emotionless eyes seared into his mind until the very day he left for his destiny. The Warrior did not raise his voice and coolly agreed to the arrangement with a few short words and extended his hand to be given back his bag. At that moment, the expression plastered on the Warrior’s face was enough to anger G’raha and he refused, scampering off with it. He shouted over his shoulder that he would give it back to the Warrior once they had cooled off and apologized for being so rude and disruptive to his quiet space.

It had been a tense few days after that, the Warrior never apologizing for being “rude” and G’raha giving back the bag when Rammbroes gave him hell by accusing him in front of the entire camp of stealing the Warrior of Light’s belongings. _That_ was even more awkward from needing to work with the folks and being given disappointed looks when they thought he wasn’t looking. He didn’t give a ratsass if the Warrior was a “Warrior of Light” or THE Warrior of Light.

A’viloh gave G’raha the same damn look that the children and adults of his tribe would give him in the entirety of his stay with them before being taken in by the Sharlayans. And he never forgave the Warrior for that.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. That hurt stuck with him past closing the Crystal Tower gates behind him and it wasn’t until he reflected back on that event during one of his many days of reading about the Warrior through the many books he collected in the First that he realized why they reacted how they did. It took further analysis of the Warrior for the Exarch to understand why they were so distant with him in the entirety of the expedition.

_“Let me heal you. If I mend you, it will be easier to keep your physical self hidden from your people, if that is your wish. Whatever I cannot mend, I will learn how to.”_

‘Yes… Yes, you would, Warrior. Whatever you do not know, you will teach yourself. Wherever you failed, you would keep going until you succeeded. My Warrior… I could never deny your request. All of those years ago… I did not know, but now I do. You have changed, my Warrior. How desperate you sounded as you carried me on your strong back; as if I mattered. How you caught me and told me how I could _be_ \--’

The sudden shrill of an alarm halted his thoughts and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. The obnoxious sound continued for some moments, dread settling into the Exarch from remembering all of the times that clock would wake him after sleeping only a bell or two. It was stopped soon after, a faint groan reaching his ears. Shuffling sounds were next, getting closer, then the rattling of the cogs from the clock. A presence. It was faint, the aether not as strong as it should be, but it was there. Who was it…?

He heard a faint murmur and then a brilliant light shined behind his eyelids, the object thankfully moved quickly to where he would no longer be blinded.

After, the person placed a hand--at least what he imagined would be a hand--square on his back, putting the faintest bit of pressure on a certain spot. G’raha inhaled quickly from the sharp pain that emerged, it dulling considerably when the person instantly took off the pressure.

“I’m so sorry… What a stupid thought that it wouldn’t hurt as much. The wound is still fresh and the crystal new… I’ll put more numbing salve on it and hopefully you won’t feel as much pain. Thank goodness you’re still asleep.”

That voice. Was it… was it really his Warrior…? That aether, it was… it was so _warm_.

“Is it a new day already…? I could have sworn that I put the alarm for only a few hours… My mind must have been too tired to notice how much I let the cogs turn… No matter.” The same pressure was applied on his face, and G’raha realized that it was a finger, more so the bend of it, that was tenderly stroking his cheek. An exhale escaped his lips, the touch bringing him more comfort than he thought it would. Was this the same Warrior?

“Good morning, G’raha.”

‘He… He said it… He said… my name… This is the Warrior… We made it… By the Twelve, we made it… Warrior… Warrior… A’viloh…!’

The moment the finger was removed from his face, the comfort disappeared and with it, a realization came from G’raha wanting to chase after it.

He couldn’t move.

Try as he might, his body betrayed him and he laid as stiff as a board. He could only breathe. He couldn’t move his ears, his nose, his fingers, not even the tips of his toes. He couldn’t move a single inch.

Panic filled his every sense as he struggled to open his mouth and say something, _anything._ His eyes remained shut, not even his desire of seeing the Warrior opening them, and his body reacted to such distress by breathing deeper, though quicker. The Warrior did not notice, moving about doing who knows what, but they seemed to notice something wrong with him. Their footsteps came near him once more and his wrist was raised.

“You are still incredibly cold… You have been cold since you got here. Your pulse is fine…” His wrist was tucked to his side and his forehead was warm. How he desperately wished he could lean into the touch. Open your eyes, gods damn it!

“Your skin… It was never that greyish color… You are cold, your skin is grey…” Hearing his Warrior gasp, the light source above him was brought closer, panic clear in A’viloh’s voice.

“Petrification… You’re petrified… Oh gods… Is that one of the side effects from the potion…? I pray not…” Their aether moved away from him-- _please don’t go--_ and then the sound of clinking glass. Objects were moved and a quiet _‘aha!’_ left his Warrior’s lips, G’raha’s panic decreasing. A memory that he forgot long ago came forth: in the quiet moments that the two would be reading over Allagan texts all of those years ago, whenever his Warrior found something, an action would always follow, whether it would be vocal or physical. He would always apologize right after, but G’raha never minded. Just seeing them with so much joy always overtook whatever discontent he felt at being interrupted mid-sentence in his reading.

“This will hurt only a moment. I need to prick you with these Gold Needles and I pray that will start to alleviate the petrification. I will do my utmost to be gentle.” They softly patted his right elbow and began the administration. The Warrior tenderly rubbed each prick with the most gentle of touches each time, and if G’raha could shed tears, he would have done so in a heartbeat. They did not deserve such kindness. They did not deserve to be saved. What they did deserve was all of the rancor the Warrior could muster and never be spoken to again. And here they were, treating him with such kindness… With such, with such _love._ Even when they thought him asleep, they were still so--

“There. I hope that wasn’t too painful. Needles were never my forte, less when needing to prick those most important to me… Your aether is still very weak, so you certainly must be asleep. Thank Azeyma for that, it is absolute torture be awake through it all.”

Most important…? No, none of that.

_Wait! Yes! My Warrior, I’m awake! I’m awake, I’m awake, I’m awake! A’viloh!_ The most G’raha could do was control his breathing. Maybe… maybe that would work!

He gave a few quick exhales, praying with all of the weak aether he had in him that that would get their attention. And it certainly did as their warm aether got close again, A’viloh placed his hand on G’raha’s crystal arm.

“G’raha…? Are you… are you awake…?” He gave the mightiest exhale through his nose that he could let out, wanting it to reach as far down as where his Warrior’s hand was. He heard the loud thump of his Warrior’s knees hitting the floor, mentally flinching at how hard their knees hit the floor but it was quickly forgotten when his cheek was cupped.

“If you’re awake, exhale once as yes.” Exhale.

“Oh…” The same dread as before came back from how the Warrior’s voice cracked. Another hand was placed on his forehead, both hands now shaking. What was wrong…?

“Oh thank Azeyma… Thank the Twelve… Thank every single one of them… I thought… When the potion didn’t work, I thought that I… I… “ They didn’t continue, G’raha feeling something wet on his nose and go down his chapped lips. Were they…? They weren’t crying, were they…?

“B-But then you were glowing… And it covered your whole body… Thank the Twelve, thank the Twelve… You’re alive… And you will recover. I swear on all that I am, on all of…” His cheek was once again stroked, this time with their calloused thumb.

“I swear to you, G’raha, I will make you better. You will be just as how you were when we saw each other again. I will do everything in my power to ensure that. You’re too…” The tears on his face moved from the exhale that left A’viloh; judging from how deep it was, it came straight from the soul.

“You are alive. And I… I couldn’t be happier.” _I’m too what…? A’viloh, what were you--_

“While you’re still awake, I’ll ask you some yes and no questions. It will help speed up your recovery. One exhale for yes, two for no. They do not have to be deep, I don’t want you to lose air.”

“Are you in any pain?”

Setting aside the moment that had passed, G’raha thought hard on that. He was petrified, and by default, he shouldn’t have felt anything. His only reasoning was that the Tower was working faster than his body was: not letting him move, but still able to have his sense of touch. That very thought brought his mind to a dark place. The Tower. The very structure that prolonged his life, and made him what he now was. The thing that changed his body forever. In those 100 years of waiting, not once did he regret his decision; not if it meant letting the Warrior live once again. He was the stepping stone for the Warrior of Light to save the realm once more and he was prepared to do whatever was necessary to make that happen. He had accepted that.

The purpose of the Gold Needles slowly began to take effect, his shoulders being first. With that came the natural chill from the room, however, the chill that he felt in his veins was more potent. The crystal that overtook his shoulder settled heavily on the mattress underneath him, heavier than the one that still held his natural flesh. His back pressed down on him lungs with a weight that he thought he had grown from long ago.

The Warrior had seen him. Not just his face, but his body. The Warrior of Darkness has seen just how far his transformation had overtaken his body and had… had touched his tainted skin.

“G’raha…. Are you asleep…?” In an instant, those thoughts went to the side. That voice, that name. Even if he was tainted, the Warrior touched him. More than that, he was healed by them. They healed the wound that would most likely stay with him until he was no longer man and turned into one of those crystal statues that he hid away when he first awoke.

Two exhales. A finger barely rested on his elbow, the light above him being shrouded by something large. The Warrior repeated his question, this time closer to his ear. How he desperately wanted to turn the Warrior.

G’raha heard the soft sigh of his Warrior, could almost see the smile that stretched his lips as he spoke. Another finger was added to his elbow. “That fills my heart with joy. Can you feel my fingers on your elbow?” Three fingers were now on his elbow and the Exarch confirmed. He attempted to bend his arm but it was as if his muscles were turned off. His toes wouldn’t wiggle, his fingers wouldn’t flex, his eyes wouldn’t open. Not even his lips would part and sound refused to leave his throat. This _was_ absolute torture.

“Good, good. It takes a good day for the petrification to wear off, but with you being in the Tower and how many Gold Needles I used, mayhaps in some hours you will be able to move. However,” the bed dipped closer to his leg, the strange feel of fabric brushing against his skin, “we need to keep your nerves working, or else you could permanently lose the sensation to feel. When I have treated such patients, I usually rub certain parts of their body and give them a few pinches here and there to make the pain reactors work.”

Rub? Pinch? That means… he would be touched in certain areas. Which means that his Warrior would have to lay their hands on… anything not originally his. The tainted flesh…

“I… will never touch anywhere inappropriate. Only the major areas. However… I will need to touch parts that have been covered by crystal.“

‘How did they know…?’ he wondered from hearing their hesitation.

It was a part of him. That tainted flesh was a part of him. But oh, how it hindered him at times. How his shoulders would creak and make sounds of rock rubbing against rock when he was hunched over for too long. How his cheek would dully ache when the Tower would suddenly react to feeling a threat in Lakeland. How he had to relearn how to write using his left hand once his right was covered by the disease, and how those golden veins would pulse at the most random times.

“May I have permission to touch the crystal that is on your body…?” But his Warrior… they once looked at him so coldly when they first met, and then with distrust when they first set foot in Lakeland. Now, they regarded him with such warmth in their eyes. And when he pitifully came to them once it was all done, oh the smile that the Warrior… _his_ Warrior gave to him. And how they spoke to him.

They said his name.

They said good morning to him…!

Who was he to deny such a request… As if… he could deny them… This body was for them. He chose this destiny because of them. He became the Crystal Exarch to give them anything a leader could offer. He is what he is now for them. He would do anything for His Warrior of Darkness.

His cursed body felt the same for he let out the deepest breath he could muster. His body settled more on the surface below him, exhaustion overtaking him. He had thought too much and let his heart stay on his sleeve for too long. Bitterly, he agreed with how he was indeed an old man. At least being old had its perks, such as being able to sleep whenever and not be judged too strongly. He became as alert as he could once more when A’viloh placed a gentle hand on his back, directly behind his heart. The gratitude that he felt pouring out from his Warrior was enough for him to inhale sharply and hold it.

“Thank you. Thank you for trusting me.”

Letting out air just like a puffer fish would, he let himself drift back to sleep, putting his full trust in his Warrior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author that really made me think about this series and how I could add my own twist into it is despommes with “A Timeless Lullaby”. It was so wonderfully written and I admit that I have gone back to re-read the series a few times. Their other words that feature their summoner Miqo'te, “Cauchemar” and “Astrolabe” are a treat and I have also read them a few times from how good they. You will not be disappointed in reading them! Their other work, "Move Me" is a delightful treat and one that will greatly motivate me for whenever I get to write some mature scenes for my adorable boy :)
> 
> As for the artist that I always enjoy seeing in my Twitter feed is Gentle (@ yokiko_ff14). They were one of the first artists that I started to follow and I just love how they draw their WoL and G'raha. As an apology for taking so long in editing this chapter, @yoshikawa_6sai is another artist that I love seeing on my feed. I love how soft their art is and they were one of the first artists that I saw drawing G'raha as an actual cat. Their drawings of him are so adorable! Though a warning for both artists, some of their works get into the NSFW territory, so have care scrolling through their Media.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this chapter and getting to the end. Have a good one and be well! :)


	5. ...to Reach You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost done, just a little bit more and we can rest. Please don’t wake, I need you to warm up. Please, trust me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done! This one took me several days to edit, mostly from not liking certain parts of it. But there are some that I am very proud of and bless the Barnes and Noble that I wrote those in all of those months ago. And bless life water (a.k.a: coffee). This chapter ended a bit awkwardly, unfortunately, but only because the next chapter would be longer than it already is had I not ended this one where I did.
> 
> Before I forget, I realized that I totally forgot to let you all know on how to enunciate my WoL's name! It would be A'viloh (Ah-Vai-Loh) Entialpoh (Ehn-Ti-Al-Poh). For the first name, think of it as the name Milo, but with a "V" and just add the Latin "A" in the beginning. For the last name, think of Interpol, like the government agency :)
> 
> Last thing before we get into it: are there any words or sentences that fill you with warmth or give you a sense that everything will be alright? There are two in here that do the trick for me :D
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for stopping by!

Once A’viloh felt the Exarch’s breathing even out, he began to rub as much he could of his skin. It still felt unnaturally cold, but he knew his blood vessels would do their job soon enough. Remembering back to the petrified cases he assisted with in the Source, more specifically in Camp Bronze Lake, he let his aether come out a bit more to assist with the process. G’raha’s aether mixed in, his crystal flesh reacted instantaneously with it from how active it was, feeling as warm as his hand did and only rubbed it lightly here and there. He examined how it felt like flesh but not, how it did not give under pressure but was not hard like rock. How there were no apparent bones, muscle or nerves under what he could see, but could not see through it. His right arm, those golden veins, flowed steadily with his aether, at moments like the ocean waves and other times, under the surface of a river.

Watching how his body reacted to his aether brought his thoughts to his friend’s convoluted reasoning for the current situation. He didn’t want to show his face to his people, yet he was comfortable to show his crystal parts to them? His rubbing slowed, his index finger lightly moving along his veins.

_‘You are not so different. You hide beneath armor, yet you use glamour to show your skin. You are welcoming to many, and yet you let only a few in your heart.’_

Esteem was right. He was no stranger to wanting to hide certain parts of his body. That was one of the reasons why he became a dark knight; the profession made it mandatory to wear the thickest armor possible to be able to provide the best protection to those around them. But that didn’t mean that a knight would be spared from the path that such fate brought. He ignored Esteem’s last thoughts, that going into territory he would rather avoid.

Checking on the Exarch’s back once he was done, he was pleased at how the wound was closing up. It wasn’t a significant amount, being able to see deep into the hole, but the crystal grew slowly in the wound and he wagered that it would cover up within a few days, or at least not leave G’raha’s back so exposed. Grabbing a gauze and some medical tape, he loosely placed it over the injury and lightly taped over it. Two duties done, one left to go.

If memory serves right, a person’s body temperature would regulate, albeit slowly, once the petrification wore off, meaning G’raha would be trembling like a leaf from how cold the Tower was. Grabbing the blanket that was on the corner of the bed, A’viloh was thankful at how light it was, still able to provide warmth while not putting pressure on his injuries. His own began to flare up half-way through covering his sleeping friend, reminding him that he needed to take care of his own wounds.

Giving G’raha’s body one more thorough inspection, his steady breathing was enough to reassure A’viloh that all would be well for a little while. Summoning Eos one last time, he also brought out his Wind-up-Sun and instructed the fairy to stay near the Exarch. Taking the necessary supplies and his minion, he placed them in a small box and headed towards the direction of the bathroom he found just the other day. He still feared that the aether Hades left on his wounds would hinder the slow healing progress, or even hurt him, what with how weak the leader was. The Wind-up-Sun shined as bright as a hot summer day, illuminating the whole bathroom. A’viloh stripped down to his small clothes, now able to see what his damage was. The three deep slashes on his right side did indeed coagulate as he thought, but not naturally. The blood that should have been spilling out was stopped by Hades leftover aether, along with other smaller wounds. The wound given to him by Innocence was deeper than he thought and looked right about to open again from much he had stretched to rub the Exarch’s skin.

‘I knew I should have sat on the damn bed…’

With a sigh, he set his box close to the sink and started working on his scarred body. It took a good while for all of the aether to vanish by A’viloh’s healing hand, the light given to him by Hydaelyn working once more with aiding him in the process. Right side now sore by how much alcohol he used to disinfect the wound, he did the best that he could to wrap tight bandages around his torso. He would have to sleep on his back for a while, his ears drooping from how much he loved to curl up on his right side. The deep hole on his left shoulder took a good while to reclean, the anesthesia taking longer than usual to settle in before he slowly pushed down clean trips of rags down the gastly hole. Both wounds would take time to heal and several cleans before the skin took a healthier red, but such was his life. That life showed from the deep cut on his left forearm from when he moved a second too late from Zenos’s blade the first time they met and remembered how long it took to heal, along with the discolored flesh on the back of his right calf from Ramuh’s lightning bolt. Despite him being the most, ah, courteous of Primal’s, he didn’t pull any punches. And how could he forget the scar that ran down his right eye from when Garuda tried to blind him?

That same eye caught a glimpse of his back from how reflective the crystal walls were, no longer shocked at the infinite amount of scars that ran down; one would have to get close enough to be able to count them. Using the walls to further examine himself, bruises of various colors adorned his body and he cleaned up whatever cuts he could find and reach. Wearing a new shirt made of bandages, he packed up and went back into the Exarch’s room, his minion following close behind him.

Changing from Sun to Moon, the minion settled themselves on the ceiling, giving A’viloh enough light to clean up more of the medical supplies. The Exarch’s breathing hadn’t changed and Eos was settled comfortably on the edge of his pillow, her light dim enough to not disturb him. A’viloh smiled softly at his fairy, whispering a small farewell spell and thanking her as she disappeared. He knew that he needed to rest, but another type of ache took over his torso and the sounds of his growling stomach reached his ears. His unbrushed tail curled up around his leg from embarrassment, hoping that the Exarch didn’t wake up from how loud that was. He searched through his bag for any type of nourishment that wouldn’t upset his stomach and settled for a whole piece of baguette. Munching on it quietly, he idly rubbed the Exarch’s skin again. Still too cold.

In these types of situations, most chirurgeons would settle on putting fire crystals near the patient to warm up their skin, sometimes under the mattress should the case be severe. But all agreed that once the Gold Needles had been administered, the fastest way to warm up a cold body was skin-to-skin contact. The men were more reluctant to agree to that method, hence the use of crystals, and the women were more understanding once they were explained of the method. A’viloh did not know if his friend would agree. He was a logical man, and by default, if told why, he would not deny such treatment. At least, A’viloh hoped. 

He had neglected to keep track of time, though he knew enough had passed for the needles to do their work. Just a few more hours, and G’raha would be as how he was… two days ago. Or was it three?

His mind was muddled enough, too much having happened in too few days, and was thankful for Esteem reminding him to sleep on a comfortable surface else his healing took longer. Norvrandt was safe for the time being and knowing that Lyna would keep the Crystarium running as they both healed reassured him further.

Just a few more days, and things could go how they were.

_‘Can they truly?_ Should _they?’_

Quietly walking to the foot of the bed, he was met with another daunting task: the furniture was _massive_ , easily fitting over a half dozen bodies. The Allagan’s were definitely not small in size and the bed proved it. Carefully, he crawled to the head of it, making sure to not let it dip down close to the Exarch less he accidentally woke him. The last thing he needed was for G’raha to find him half-way through his plan and think that A’viloh was to do something lewd to him in his sleep. He shook his head quickly at that, cheeks flushing and his tail curled around his leg once more.

‘Please don’t wake up, please don’t wake up...’

He finally made it to the sleeping Miqo’te and carefully slid his arms under him. Slowly, he moved him closer to the middle and A’viloh even slower settled on the leader’s left. G’raha’s size definitely worked in A’viloh’s favor, only needing to use half of his strength to place some of him on top of the Warrior’s left torso. His mussed head fit just right on A’viloh and he tucked their crystal arm at their side. He paused as he felt G’raha’s breathing change, ears facing forward to figure out if it was from pain or waking up. After several breaths, they settled and A’viloh pulled their left arm around to get them more comfortable; it was as if the puzzle was complete with how perfect they settled on his side on him. Letting his hand rest in the middle of G’raha’s back, he idly patted their skin, examining him from this angle. For someone who held their ground with so much confidence, he was so small…

G’raha’s body sucked A’viloh’s body heat straight away, needing to suppress his shudder. If their flesh was as cold as the floor, the crystal portions of his body were as cold as ice. Bringing the sheets around them both before he roused his friend with his shaking, he thanked Esteem for reminding him to bring more, his darkness having scolded him from ignoring his body’s discomforts. The odd chronometer and G’raha’s breathing echoed off the blue crystal walls, the lulling sounds making A’viloh’s eyes fluster closed and a deep sense of exhaustion took over him just as it did the day before. He tried to stay awake so that G’raha’s body temperature matched his own, but the soft mattress under him, along with the warm blankets over him, overtook his willpower and joined the Exarch in the land of sleep.

=====

_Tick tock, tick tock._

What an annoying sound…

_Tick tick, tock tick._

That hiccup. That needs to get fixed else he might chuck it away like the rest of things that he hid in certain parts of his home.

_Badump, badump, badump…_

Oh, that was a new one. The soft shell of his ear pressed closer to the source, that sound more pleasing to his ears. The noise seemed to move as well, his cheek moving slowly up and down every so often. The noise was pleasant, the movement was lulling, and the warmth was _divine._ He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable on his bed. Then again, he rarely laid on it, most often falling asleep on the floor or on the desk. If he was close to his desk and there was room for his head, the wooden surface was pillow enough for him.

But this… this was heaven to him. And if this was heaven, then he must have been very far in a dream. Dreaming was one of the few states of mind that would take him away from the heaviness of his crystal skin and get rid of the faint soreness that would linger on his bones. When he dreamed, he was as healthy as he was when he awoke all of those centuries ago. When he dreamed, his crystal would be lighter.

But what really mattered to him, what really made him feel alive, was that he could dream of that one special person. He could dream them there, doing some mundane task, or dream them with him. And they would be so, so happy to see him. Their smile would reach their eyes and they would always shine so brightly. One eye would settle on his bloodied one like the warm hue of a candle, while the other sucked him in like the pleasant warmth that settled in his stomach after taking a sip from the cinnamon tea that they rarely made. He loved it when they would make it for him. Both eyes would always gaze at him with such warmth; he never wanted to look away from them. They were the warmth that he wished he could fall into, envelop his scarred and broken body like a protective blanket, and just _be_ there. He was always lighter than air and time would never move. Everything was just right.

He didn’t know when those dreams would start, but what he did know is that they began before his two century slumber. They weren’t as strong as how they are now, but that person was still in his dreams. In the past, they would accompany him in whatever journey his mind decided to take him. But later, when they were closer to his final journey, the dreams became more… risky. The space between them would no longer be bodies apart, and instead, they would be right at his side. Those calloused fingers would brush against his cheek and a crooked finger ended up at his jaw to tilt his head up. Sometimes, that strong thumb would rub on the bottom of lip and those eyes would ask what their lips would not.

_May I?_

Yes. His body would always say yes. They were taller than him, G’raha’s boots only adding an ilm to his stature, so he was always forced to go on the bits of his toes to push upward. His face would warm up when they didn’t force their hands away from his pale face and they _liked_ to cup his face and guide him closer to them. Their arm would snake around his waist to keep him up, knowing that he had to stretch to reach them and loving every moment of it. But they weren’t cruel. When their foreheads touched, they always brought him back down without fail and planted him firmly on the floor. Not once did their hand leave his face, nor did their arm unwind from his waist. They held him there, looking straight into his eyes and land deep in his soul. He didn’t have much to hide. Sure, there were little things here and there that he kept to himself but they were insignificant. He didn’t commit any crimes, aside from maybe swiping the occasional apple from the markets of Mor Dhona and perhaps getting an extra portion of dinner once everyone was done eating, but he never really did anything truly terrible. If he did, then why would the Warrior of Light look at him so? Why would they touch him so? They wouldn’t do that to just anyone.

But G’raha knew that it was all a dream. It was never real. He wished for them to be so, time and time again. His dreams were utterly cruel from pulling him back into the world of the living when he tried to press his lips against the Warrior’s own. And when he awoke, he had to face them and the Sons of Saint Coinach, along with their lack of knowledge of what transpired in his mind. The Warrior would keep him at arm's length when with the other scholars and be at his side only when they were alone; and that only happened when they were comparing texts and discussing them.

Oh, how he loved that activity. They were a man of little words, but they held so much volume. G’raha made it a point of being in their space often, just to be a “brat”, and they subtly moved an inch away with a slight smile each time. He wanted to hear them more, on purpose finding the most peculiar of things in the texts just to hear him speak and hear his thoughts.

G’raha realized that he did more, found more, and thought clearer when he was with them. At times he pondered if it was because of their many titles that made his senses go to 120%; he couldn’t make a fool out of himself when such an important person was with him. Or was it perhaps the faint scent of lavender or vanilla that came up here and there beneath their armor?

Such a scent wafted into his nostrils when he pushed their shoulders together with the pretext of showing the Warrior something _very_ interesting in his latest tome, jostling his armor enough to let the scent through. Not once did he ask, though. He was content in being near them and seeing how the Warrior moved enough to be comfortable at his side, bend down to read the text where G’raha’s finger laid and say something that made the scholar’s mind think of something else. He didn’t miss how the Warrior’s ear flicked before they spoke, their eyes narrowing slightly from concentration. It was as if a switch was flipped within them and they put their whole self into the text. It was _fascinating._

When he came to the Norvrandt, those memories were the first that came to mind. G’raha used them to fuel his quest in finding a way to bring them over, and then as an anchor to bring the right person through the Rift. It was at that time that his dreams would become daydreams. No longer could he rest his head, there was too much to do. Other people came into his life and gave him the strength that he needed for whatever task had to be taken care of. He became the Crystal Exarch, their pillar of strength. Some residents of the Crystarium would be the light of his life at times from how much was going on: people died left and right from the sin eaters, too many were left without homes, and they were losing hope. The Crystal Tower really was their beacon of hope, and him by default. He had to be strong for them, less he fell into the same despair.

But he was still human. At least, he desperately thought so. Despite his body changing in ways that were irreversible, his mind was still that of a man. He was blessed by all of the kind words that his citizens would give, by everyone’s kind actions, and that would be the basis for his dreams at certain nights. But they weren’t enough at times. When he would begin to lose hope, he would think back on that very same hero that so many wrote books of and songs of their heroic deeds. Some were told in extravagant ways that no hero could really do, not even the Warrior of Light, but it gave the people the strength to keep going. He was the one that actually met them and that was enough for him at times. Those adventures would follow him day in and day out, the very ones that he knew were true and the lies.

With them came the dreams that really showed the Exarch’s wants and needs. No longer would he wake when he pressed his lips to theirs. His arms would wrap around the strong chest of his hero and pull them flush against his. He would gaze up into their eyes, hood never obscuring his face. He didn’t want to hide from them. He did so to save them, less they undoubtedly sacrificed themselves. All was safe in his dreams, he didn’t have to save or protect them. It could be just him and the Warrior. It was only G’raha and A’viloh. His dreams went as innocent as holding hands, to them being as intimate as lovers would.

In this dream, he was very warm. Maybe a bit too warm at this point. Inhaling deeply, the Exarch’s cold face scrunched up briefly. While trying to move his body, little pins moved around his body as if he had been in an awkward position for too long. It took him a bit to prop himself up using his right arm. Blinking a few times, the dim light above gave him enough to see what this wonderful thing under him was. As he suspected, his Warrior was fast asleep, which was a first. Next came the bandages. The Exarch’s brows furrowed: his dreams never had the Warrior injured. Rubbing the tiredness from his eyes, he became more and more aware of his Warrior, but not before he lost a bit of his balance sitting up.

Looking behind him, he saw the cause for his clumsiness or really, what he _should_ have been seeing. With a wave of his hand, his tail came back, materializing from the realm that he hid it in and the trousers thankfully had a hole for it to comfortably go through… and this same hole was the only thing keeping the trousers on him. Quickly grabbing the band that should have sustained them on his hips, they were curiously a tad too big and tied too loosely.

Strange, his pants should be just right. And his balance shouldn’t be so off.

A chill ran down his spine. Was he shrinking? He heard tales of the elderly shrinking with age, and while he did indeed age, the only indications of that was his hair losing some of its red color, along with his ears, and his tail. It flicked once, almost thankful at being let out. Ears swiveled forward when they heard the deep inhale of the person beneath him and he too turned his attention to them.

The same markings as the one on his nose pulled forward, a deep frown on his Warrior’s face. The hand that had been on the Exarch back had come down to the Warrior’s chest and moved around the bed, as if searching for something. They exhale shakingly and G’raha could see goosebumps appearing on their skin.

Oh, they’re cold. The room wasn’t too warm for normal people, he had to remind himself of that. But he was warm. Turning his head, he saw the blankets that he rumpled behind him and brought them over the Warrior. Sitting on knees next to the Warrior, he observed them as his faded tail thumped once on the bed.

The blanket did the trick from the change on the Warrior’s face. They inhaled deeply and began to turn to their right side, knees bending as they attempted to curl up, most likely from wanting to warm up faster. The Exarch’s ears swiveled back when he heard their low, pained groan. It all came crashing down on the Exarch at once, the warmth that surrounded him and the bliss that filled his mind washing away like a harsh current. His crystal skin settled in too heavily and a dull ache came from his back. This was no dream. This was real.

They were alive.

G’raha had lived.

And The Warrior of Darkness was in his bed.

He meant to get up from the bed, he truly did, but when the Warrior pushed themselves onto their back with a wince, he only made it to the edge. He could move much either, his body reacting too slowly, and the pain on his back increasing.

With horror, he watched as the Warrior’s eyes opened.

=====

Cold.

Cold, hungry, and in pain. Mismatched eyes opened slowly, blinking up at the light above him. Ah, his minion was still up there. His lips quirked up, seeing how relaxed they were. Not that they had an expression, but he knew when they were straining themselves to provide a gentle light for him and this was not such a time. Patting his chest in two different locations, he did not have to look down to know that the Exarch was no longer on him. Which meant that he had a lot of explaining to do. Inhaling deeply, he let it all out as he began to prop himself up until a sharp pain came from his left shoulder, another sharp pain from his right side coming after.

“Dont…!” came the strained cry. A’viloh immediately lifted his head, looking straight at the source of the voice.

There to his left was the Crystal Exarch, a bandage still around his forehead and a few bandaids on his skin. He was sitting on the back of his heels, his trousers a bit too loose on him but still serving their purpose. His right hand was outstretched in his direction but they settled onto their lap when they saw A’viloh staying still. Their ears were flat on their head and A’viloh caught their tail curled up behind them. He made sure to skip past their chest when his eyes traveled up and they landed on the Exarch’s Allagan eyes. They were wide and filled with so many emotions, but one stood out.

A’viloh’s eyes softened, shoulders sagging as he recognized it, along with their stance.

Terrified.

They were terrified. Both hands were on their lap, curled up into tight fists. Red eyes insisted on ignoring his own as their eyes were locked on to his left shoulder. Angling down to get a better look at it, he saw the brown patch on the bandage.

Ah, puss from the wound.

He hoped that it did not leave a stain on the bed, making a mental note to wash the sheets later. He dared not look at the wound on his side, else the Exarch’s gaze would wander to that one too. Slowly, he sat up, schooling his face enough to show no pain, even though his entire body screamed from it. G’raha’s eyes shifted from his face to the wound a few times, eyes wide with concern. He tried to tell them to stop, command them as the Exarch would, but no words would come out. He was mute, and his body refused to move at that instant. 

‘Why… why didn’t he listen?!’

A’viloh’s eyes flicked up, narrowing slightly at how much pain and worry they had. He had to reassure him somehow, say something that would make him better. Placing his hand on his shoulder to hide the wound, G’raha blinked and A’viloh knew that he had to be careful with his words and actions. His friend was incredibly strong, they had shown that time and time again. But right now… his eyes… What could he say that would change the situation for the better...

“G’raha.”

That did something, though not what A’viloh expected. The Exarch’s entire body flinched, back pin straight and his lips parted. The fear in his red eyes left, softening considerably. Holding his breath, he exhaled when he was ready and slowly, very slowly, Allagan eyes trailed up to meet A’viloh’s brown ones. Waiting.

Seeing him like that, how vulnerable he would put himself for him… A’viloh’s eyes softened considerably along with his heart.

“Good Morning, G’raha.”

That name… That was his name.

_That was his name_.

That was his name in the past. He is the Crystal Exarch now. He was no longer G’raha Tia.

The pain that he felt in his chest reached his eyes, those welcoming brown hues becoming blurry.

What a fool he was. He was supposed to be the Crystal Exarch, the leader for the people of the Crystarium. Their beacon of hope.

This beacon of hope couldn’t even see the Warrior of Darkness in the eye without bursting into tears.

Turning away, his crystal arm shielded his eyes as he tried to make the tears stop. His left hand gripped at the cloth covering his thighs, the fabric thankfully too strong to tear. That wasn’t his name, that wasn’t his name… He was the Crystal Exarch, not the historian G’raha Tia. That person was back at the Source, still sleeping. He was… he was not supposed to be here. He was not supposed to be alive. He should have been dead. He should have been…

The warmth left A’viloh’s eyes in an instant, filled with concern from the Exarch’s reaction. G’raha was hopelessly trying to calm himself. He was breathing too quickly, shoulders shaking as he bit his bottom lip. At this point--

“Look at me,” A’viloh gently commanded. He needed to bring the focus back to him, be assertive but with gentleness. He had to guide the Exarch through this.

G’raha’s shuddered, scooting farther back. Too much, too much; he felt so strange. He needed to get his bearings again. He needed to leave and calm himself. His feet hung from the bed, and a few more movements would get him off it.

Leave, leave, leave…!

A’viloh saw what he was doing and lunged. ‘Oh gods, he’s going to fall--’

His left hand gripped the Exarch’s wrist and reached up to place his right hand on their crystal cheek. Warm fingers brushed against cold crystal ones, keeping his hand on the target. The Exarch’s breathing was no longer labored, having choked from fright at the movement and A’viloh used that chance to get their attention.

“Please, look at me,” he pleaded. Gently, he turned G’raha’s face, keeping his hand on G’raha’s cheek, and waited. The leader flinched from the hands on him, but thankfully did not pull away. What had made them react so? Was it their name? Was he too harsh with his words?

It took him a good while to bring his arm down, the tears coming down at a faster rate. Allagan red almost glowed from the amount of tears, and despite their lack of focus, they locked onto A’viloh’s, as instructed.

Letting go of his wrist, A’viloh’s other hand cupped G’raha’s face, not too tightly and giving them the chance to move away if they wished. “Focus on me. Focus on my voice. What do you see?”

G’raha opened his mouth, but nothing came. It took him a few tries to get something out, throat muddled up by the snot that was undoubtedly going down his throat and closing his voice box.

“....Y-You. I see you.” He garbled, swallowing after.

“What color are my eyes?”

“Raw cinnamon and honey.”

A’viloh blinked in surprise at how descriptive they were, a simple “brown” would have sufficed. Despite the answer, G’raha was still unwell, his many tears landing on his trousers and shallowly breathing.

A couple of more questions should suffice, A’viloh tilting his head down.“How many ears do I have?” G’raha’s gaze flicked up to the Warrior’s ears, and A’viloh flicked both to keep his attention on them. He was grateful for not having his earrings on, the noise wouldn’t have made the situation better.

“Two.” Quick answer, good.

“One more, I promise. Do you know who I am?”

That was not the right question to ask. G’raha’s form stiffened, pulling his face back slightly but not entirely keeping it away from A’viloh’s hands. Red eyes trailed down A’viloh form, missing A’viloh’s brown ones and settled on the pussed shoulder. He was silent, tiredness sweeping over his body though his mind was still alert. Closing his eyes, A’viloh nearly missed the answer from how faint it was.

“....A’viloh Entialpoh, The Warrior of Darkness.”

The Warrior’s eyes saddened, slowly pulling his hands back and let one settle over his shoulder, the other on his lap. Definitely not a good question to ask. With how sour the conversation was going, the Warrior let out the thought that wanted to come out from the beginning.

“...Did it upset you that I said good morning to you?” A’viloh might as well have slapped him, those ruby eyes opening faster than he could inhale in surprise. Before, they held fear, then unease and exhaustion; now, they were filled with pain at his words. 

G’raha shook his head quickly, wincing from the sharp pain on the side of his head. He had done enough harm to the Scions, to the Warrior. His words when he had approached A’viloh at the top of Amaurot’s roof’s rang clear in his mind. He had to explain himself.

“No… No! You must understand, I… Good morning, good morning, a thousand good mornings…” Opening an eye, he grasped A’viloh’s hand, trembling slightly. If only it were so easy; but he had to try.

“You… you must understand. I am… now the Crystal Exarch. I can no longer hold… that name that you have called me by.” Shuddering, he tried to explain more, but his pounding head refused to let him think of the words.

‘Gods give me strength. He must know.’

Taking deep breaths, he kept his unfocused gaze on A’viloh’s hand. It did not move, warmth seeping into his hands, one getting too warm while the other remained cold. Moving his eyes further up, he did not miss the bruises and scratches that were on his arm, his mind slowly clearing up. Leaning forward slightly, the pounding increased for a moment before it too started to pull back, now able to hear the ticking of his old clock. It was far away, surprisingly lulling and he felt each tick bringing him closer and closer to comfort. That was the only sound heard in the room, the Warrior as silent as their breathing. It was then that his hands were placed on the Warrior’s lap, a movement almost unnoticeable from how subtle they were. Yet how could he not when he found that both of the Warrior’s hands were once again on him?

“...You hold the title of Crystal Exarch. But your name is G’raha Tia.”

Oh. Those words rang as clearer than his clock, clearer than the hum of the Tower. They were two simple sentences, two simple sentences that meant the world to him.

‘This is the battle that plagues your soul, isn’t it, my most beloved friend?’

He knew. He understood. Of course he did. The Warrior had been battling the very same thing for many years now, and still was.

But now was not the time for such a battle. They still needed to recover from the one they just won.

Once again, A’viloh guided G’raha to him, having more confidence in his actions rather than his words. Twice did G’raha not move away from him, and prayed that he wouldn’t on the third. He noticed how G’raha had winced from his head wound, grateful that he had not noticed him place his fingers on the side of his head to bring him much needed healing. It had thankfully worked, feeling the pain ebb away with each pulsing heal, though now they needed rest. More could happen tomorrow.

Slowly stretching to G’raha, he placed his hand on the back of his head, pulling them to him while his subtle Repose lingered. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough, G’raha noticing and lifting his head. Still, A’viloh continued, scooting forward until their knees touched and placed his other hand on G’raha’s shoulder.

_‘You’re getting to him.’_

“I hold many titles, the primary one being The Warrior of Light. In this land, it is the Warrior of Darkness. But that is all they are: titles. My name is A’viloh Entialpoh. You are G’raha Tia. That is who we are.”

Those brown hues came and went like waves, movement happening all around. A’viloh could no longer keep himself sitting, his wounds aching too much, but he couldn’t heal himself either. He had him, and he needed to keep him there. G’raha’s eyes followed him and let himself be moved as A’viloh scooted to the pillows behind them. It was a delicate dance, one that A’viloh could not mess up. His Repose, the little that he could muster from the lack of mana he had, was doing its trick, G’raha’s eyes drooping slightly. Just a bit more, they can talk more tomorrow.

His head reached the pillow below him, aching muscles washing with relief but G’raha did not follow. The tears had dried up, though his trousers were still damp. His nose was redder than his hair, needing to breathe from his mouth, though he attempted to from the sniffles that happened here and there. A’viloh expected his friend to realize his intentions, but they made no mention of it. Their eyes looked deep into A’viloh’s, his years starting to show from the deep weariness in his eyes and body.

_What now? I am here, what do I do now?_

They were still dancing. A few more words, maybe he can be convinced.

A’viloh’s eyes softened, an equally soft smile on his face. Convince. No, not convince; _believe._

_‘Show him the same truth that I made you see.’_

“You are G’raha Tia, former historian and scholar of Sharlayan, former member of the Students of Baldesion, and of NOAH. That is what I understand. And that is the name that you hold.”

That was it…? For now, that was it.

For now, it will be this simple.

He didn’t need to go further. His Warrior understood.

Even if he had to wait 100 years, he would have waited for 100 more if it meant being able to drown himself in those brown eyes, just how he was now. He could see himself so clearly in them. He was enveloped by warmth again and his crystal skin didn’t feel as heavy. Time stopped around them and he was lighter than air. Did he pass out from breathing too hard? Was he dreaming again…?

A’viloh didn’t know if his friend understood the meaning of his words or if they just soothed him. What A’viloh did know was that he wanted G’raha close. Closer than how they were now. Perhaps… as close as he was made to be with the voice in his mind, with the darkness in his soul, the mentor he wished for so long. He wanted to be that comfort and friend to this man. No, he wanted to be more than that. He wanted to be, wanted to show--

_‘Later. You can do so later. You both need rest.’_

‘...Yes.’

_‘Call him. Call out to him like how you did with me.’_

All of those years and all of his journey made him think. And G’raha was the one that started it all.

“Come here.”

Can he? Truly, can he really go? 

“Trust me. Trust me the same as how I trusted you when you first gave me your hand. Come here.” A final plea. Unshed tears, and a stretched out hand.

He did. Oh, he did. He never lost it. He trusted this man more than he trusted himself. All of what he did, all of what he was, all that he would leave behind, it was all for him, after all.

A’viloh wasn’t the only one that was made to think. The roles were reversed in their respective persons long ago. G’raha wanted this for so long. G’raha wanted A’viloh close. He wanted to be close to him _now_. So he obliged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words that do the trick for me were at the very end: "Come here" and "Look at me". There's just some thing so raw and intimate with those words, even more so than "I love you." To me, it's as if you're giving your all to the person who says them to you, and I hope that I expressed that with that short scene :)
> 
> Instead of presenting an author that really inspired me, I recently read through some of my bookmarks and was delighted to find a story that I read long ago. It is "Courage from Love" by migratorycat (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555501) and it is just so beautifully written. So much happens in that one-shot and I highly encourage you all to read it whenever you have the chance. A long one, but a story that you will not regret reading. There is some NSFW at the end, just warning you all :)
> 
> As for the artist that always brings me warm fuzzies, eni on Twitter (@14_enione) is definitely that artist. Their most recent art gave me the strength that I needed to edit this chapter, especially when I got stuck at certain parts. They create such loving pieces of work, and some of the ones from earlier this month really moved me for certain scenes in this chapter. Please give them a look, you'll definitely enjoy their art!
> 
> Again, thank you so, so much for the kudos and for giving my work a chance. It really means a lot when I get those emails and see that people are enjoying this as much as I did when I wrote this story all of those months ago.
> 
> Have a good one and please be well! :)


	6. ...to Give You Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please trust me, I will be fine. You are what matters most at the moment. Even if my wounds hurt. Gods, when was the last time I ate? There’s too much on my mind, I can’t sleep. But treating you, concentrating on you, that is easy enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, done! I got done editing this chapter two nights ago but was too tired to post it and add notes, so I thought it would be best to wait another day or two. Still tired, but am able to concentrate a bit better! ....Kinda! ^^;;
> 
> Before we get into the chapter, a wonderful reader reminded me that I had not posted screenshots of my boy! I did my best to remedy that and they are on my Twitter (https://twitter.com/Anela_Fawn/status/1231845574414098432). Excuse how terrible they look, I am still baby at taking them, but I will do my best to get better!
> 
> One more thing, I promise! The wonderful reader that I mentioned, grahatias, made some fanart for one of the scenes in my story and I am so incredibly humbled by it. Please give it a look and give them some likes! --> https://twitter.com/grahaimpatiens/status/1231414011100528640
> 
> Now, without further ado, please enjoy the chapter and thank you so much for stopping by!

A’viloh should have asked. He should have asked what G’raha wanted. But when he saw how terrified he was, with his ears pinned to his head, tail curled up around him and eyes wide with that… that emotion, he didn’t think. He just wanted to reassure his friend. They had both gone through so much the past several days. It was all a blur for him, partially from forcing himself to not think about it-- _not yet_ \--and also from setting his mind to the task that needed to be completed soon: the Exarch’s recovery. He knew that Lyna would come in a day or two to check up on them.

There were many things that needed to get done. Now that night had returned to Norvrandt, many things would change for everyone who lived on these lands. The people of Lakeland now had to worry about fending for themselves at night with limited vision, Fanow and Slighterbough needed to come together to put a stop to the Children of the Everlasting Dark, Magnus’s workers had to get the carts running again, the people of Twine needed to concentrate on the mines, the dwarves of Tomra had to work with the people in upper and lower Kholusia for their crops and rebuilding what had been broken from the sin eater attacks. Il Mheg was peaceful enough but Feo Ul will become most displeased again if he did not call for her soon, the patients of the Inn at Journey’s End still needed care and supplies--

The shifting beside him brought him out of his thoughts. Tilting his head, he caught a glimpse of the Exarch’s face turning away from him, deep in sleep. When the Warrior asked the Exarch to come closer, the leader accepted but with hesitance. They made full sure to not lay on him and opted to lay face down next to them. They had noticed him without his pillow, A’viloh too deep in thought to have realized, and started to pull it close to the Warrior’s head until A’viloh laid a hand over theirs, stopping them. The Exarch jumped at the contact and turned to face the Warrior, who gave them a thankful smile and lightly patted their hand twice. 

_Thank you, I will rest soon_ , his eyes reassured. As he brought the pillow to lay against the headboard, he sealed the deal by covering his friend’s back with the blankets that were laid on him before, letting them lightly drop down so as to not agitate their wounded back.

Not a single word was said, the Exarch never breaking eye contact with the Warrior. They were like ruby gems, A’viloh able to see himself in them but not fully. They showed how tired the Exarch was, how much more he needed to heal. The look they shared told them both that physical wounds were not the only ones that needed to mend. A’viloh gave another warm smile, eyes softening before they closed and made himself more comfortable. With his right arm under his head and left arm across his chest, he ignored the pain that seared his side and shoulder, trying to look as relaxed as possible. _We will discuss everything later_ , his body finalized.

It took a good while for the Exarch to accept, his gaze piercing A’viloh and almost burning him from how intense his eyes were on him. He felt the Exarch shift, pushing himself further up the bed and not laying fully. A’viloh made a point to have brought the sheets over his left shoulder and the only way the Exarch could see his right side was to pull them away. From the time that the Warrior came to know G’raha as the Crystal Exarch, he knew that the man would not pry if the Warrior did not wish to speak. That’s one of the ways that he had changed. The G’raha from before would have huffed, said something snarky and then gave him his space for a little while before bouncing back and making conversation to slyly bring up the topic of his curiosity. In some way, A’viloh was relieved that was no longer the case. But another part of him missed that.

The Warrior continued to relax his body and focusing on the chronometer helped with that. He suspected that the Exarch would finally rest if he fell asleep first. He didn’t worry about the leader sneaking off from the comfortable mattress; the Exarch knew that even if he did make it off the bed, he would have no strength to move around. His suspicions were correct when the bed dipped next to him from the Exarch settling, not right at the Warrior’s side, but not exactly far; if A’viloh had brought his left arm down, he would have been able to feel the Exarch’s warm arm against his. The Warrior’s body was beyond tired, but his mind was still alert. It had been a while since he had those moments, and he doubted he would be able to sleep at all.

He dared not open his eyes, else he knew he would have spooked the miqo’te next to him. It was already tense under the covers from how much was unsaid and how things were: what was the leader to him? If one would ask, A’viloh would say that they were the very dearest of friends, most certainly from how the Exarch-- _G’raha_ \--had done for him and vise-versa. If the Scions asked, he would state the same, and even say that the Exarch was as important to him as them, his family. If G’raha asked… 

Just as the Exarch did not look away from him an hour or two before, A’viloh did the same. Hearing the deep breaths coming from the Exarch, he knew that his friend was in a deep sleep. He was sprawled comfortably on his stomach, not a hint of pain showing from his body language, filling A’viloh with relief. When he dropped the thin blankets on the miqo’te, he made sure to leave enough room for the wound to breathe, but still be covering him. Glancing up at his minion, he closed his eyes briefly while concentrating on making the light a bit brighter; he didn’t want to wake up his sleeping friend after all.

Once he felt the room bright enough to let him see and not wake his companion, he carefully slid his left arm down. Making sure to not bring the sheets up with him, he propped himself onto his elbow, eyes clamping shut and pursing his lips--he needed to get some type of anesthetic on his shoulder and soon. Once he was sure that he wouldn’t let out any noise from the pain, he shuddered in a breath as he forced his eyelids to relax. Both opened and he quickly looked at the back of the Exarch’s head. He was thankfully still sleeping, not having moved an ilm.

A’viloh had to be quick with checking, else he might open up his wound again and make a mess on the bed. Bracing himself, he put his full weight on his elbow, sucking in a quick breath as his right hand hovered over the Exarch’s wound. A gentle glow came from it, the Warrior putting more attention on the wound rather than his own, even if they screamed at him to pay attention to them.

The wound was healing nicely, or at least he hoped so. He could sense the aether around the wound was stronger than the day before and if his hypothesis was correct, meant that fresh crystal was also growing. Satisfied, he not-so-gently let his elbow slip from underneath him, the bed bouncing only once as he shoved his face into his arm to muffle his groan. By the gods did that hurt… 

Regulating his breathing, he focused on the chronometer once more, letting the uneven ticks and tocks fill his mind. While he grounded himself, he mentally pushed some of the pain away.

_‘Leave, while you still have the chance._ ’ 

He did the same with the sheets, making sure to be delicate and commanding his poor minion to rest. The little moon slowly dropped to his side, not leaving no matter how much A’viloh willed it away. It wanted to stay, with him. A sorrowful smile came to the Warrior’s lips, completely touched by the gesture and hugged it to his chest. Keeping his beloved minion close to him, he packed the necessary ingredients for the anesthetic in the same box he used before and quietly left the room.

=====

Cleaning his wounds took a bit longer than expected. Without having access to check the time (forgetting the ticking one in G’raha’s room), he could not keep up with the change of day. The “home” in the Crystal Tower had no windows that he could see, save for the light that poured from the ceiling in the area that connected all of the rooms, but he didn’t know if that was natural light from outside or from the many crystals that could be beyond the large hole. Thus, his body was the only indicator with its need for nourishment. The hole in his shoulder was healing up as good as it could have, more puss coming out when he pushed clean rags in it along with some anesthetic. He made a mental note to not use his shoulder as much and instead rely on using his abdominal muscles. Which then brought the point of his side.

The slashes were doing better than his shoulder, but not by much. With the tainted aether now gone, his body could heal naturally, the Echo being a nice bonus to that. He cleaned the surface of the wound to the best of his ability from the wound winding around his torso more than he thought, his hands able to reach only so much. He noticed the slight sting that accompanied him cleaning it, making another mental note to mimic his friend’s sleeping position.

Leaving the bathroom as if he never went in, he quietly slipped back into G’raha’s room, his minion long gone and him having to re-adjust to the much darker room. It wasn’t completely dark, the crystal walls still serving their purpose, but he noticed how much duller they were compared to the Ocular’s walls; it was as if they slumbered, much like their owner.

Setting aside the wooden box, he kept his word in not using his upper limbs as much and brought his bag onto the Exarch’s chair. Bread would have quenched his hunger, but he knew of the repercussions. Opting for Broad Bean Soup, he tiptoed to the door while fumbling with some fire shards when he heard a deep inhale coming from the bed. Stopping mid-step, he tensed up as he heard the unmistakable sounds of the Exarch waking. Dilated pupils watched the bed, caramel tail high while his ears swiveled forward to hear more.

Indeed, the owner of the Tower was awake and slowly sat up, the creaking of bones echoing from the walls the more he rose. His groan was muffled from his hands covering his face and he rubbed his cheeks to wake himself. Once satisfied, A’viloh noticed how his head looked from side to side and the Warrior stiffened more from how their eyes would at times land on him; whether the Exarch noticed him or chose to ignore him, A’viloh could not tell. His brown eyes could see fairly well in the room by now and he did not miss how the Exarch’s shoulders drooped, but he was too far away to see his expression. In one swift movement, the Exarch waved his crystal hand and it was as if the world began anew.

The crystal walls came to life, the bright glow that A’viloh remembered when first entering the Crystal Tower coming to mind. The unmistakable hum from the Ocular filled the walls and joined the ticking of the chronometer as if they were long lost partners. Books that A’viloh missed suddenly appeared from the newfound light and the number of parchment paper littered on the floor next to the Exarch’s desk was more apparent.

What A’viloh failed to realize, however, is that he no longer needed his dilated eyes to help him see better in the dark. A loud hiss escaped his lips, immediately bringing the arm that held the fire shards to his eyes; it was a miracle that he didn’t drop his cold soup on the floor from the sudden shock of light.

“There is someone there, yes? I need not of the Tower’s light to know of your presence. I only ask who it is that is in my chambers. Private chambers, might I add.”

A’viloh’s ears perked up at hearing the clear voice of the Exarch. It was as if the events of the past two days never happened. His voice was sure enough with a hint of a warning. Pushing back the shock, he bit his lip, a slight grin to his face. The whole situation was too strange, too amusing, but he contributed it to his lack of sleep (though he did rest some in-between) from the past two days--or was it three now? Keeping his voice as steady as he could, he answered.

“My apologies, I did not mean to intrude on your private chambers.” Because of his arm still covering his face, he couldn’t see the Exarch’s own, but he imagined the leader’s ears being pin straight from the surprise that he heard.

“...Is that… A’viloh? A’viloh, are you there…?”

Testing out his vision, the person in question lowered his arm and squinted at the brightness. It would take him a few more seconds to adjust but he could see enough through the tears. Setting the bowl and shards on the floor, his feet pattered against the marble floor as he walked over to the Exarch. The leader’s head swiveled to his direction, ears wiggling. The Warrior slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, making sure to be at a comfortable distance.

“I’m here, G’raha” A’viloh answered softly. The Exarch’s head snapped towards A’viloh’s voice once more and it was then that he saw something terribly wrong.

The Exarch’s ears pinned back, whether it be from A’viloh’s words or him using his name. Either way, the Exarch brought his fisted hands closer to himself, A’viloh noticing the balled up sheets. There was some vulnerability in G’raha’s face, but nowhere near how it was the day before. A’viloh examined him as the other miqo’te spoke.

“...Then… the events from before… They were not a dream, were they…?” whispered the leader. That seemed to be enough for him--or was it that he had had enough?--from shaking his head. Straightening himself, along with his ears, he gave A’viloh an apologetic expression, speaking as softly as the Warrior did. “I made a fool out of myself, please forgive me, dear friend. I was not in my five senses, but I assure you, I am better than before and will take responsibility for my actions,” the Exarch continued. To A’viloh’s ears, it sounded more like the Exarch was trying to reassure himself more than to him.

“However…” the Exarch trailed off, “...it seems that I must get my bearings once more. I attempted to awaken this part of the tower, but from what I can see, or lack thereof, I must use a little more force than necessary. Pray, give me a moment to try once more.” He began to raise his arm but A’viloh cut in.

“I think I may know why that is, G’raha.” The Exarch’s ears once again pinned back and A’viloh knew that it was because of his name now. He could also see the faded tail wrap around their owner’s waist as if to have some kind of grounding. His friend spoke like the leader that he was, but the Warrior… he wanted to speak to the person beyond that title. “I only ask for your permission to test my theory.”

“...What is it that you intend to do, my friend…?” the Exarch cautiously questioned. The steadiness in his voice was wavering but he still had the stance of a leader. He still wished to be that leader. Closing his eyes for a moment, A’viloh explained emphatically, taking note of that.

“I think that you might be afflicted with blindness. It can be easily cured with some eye drops. I have plenty of them, however, I must needs make sure that is what is afflicting you. And thus I ask: may I have your consent to touch your face and treat your eyes?”

A simple request. It was, truly. But then... why was G’raha so nervous…? Why did the clutch the sheets tighter to him, and feel his tail curl closer to him?

He trusted the Warrior of Darkness. How could anyone not? They had put their life in danger time and time again for the people of the First as well as for the Source. They have saved the people of Eorzea countless times, liberated Doma and Ala Mhigo, and brought night back to Norvrandt. They were trustworthy, logical, empathic, docile, kind… So very kind… Considerate, warm… 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the Warrior. It was the fact that the Warrior would be so close to him. Memories of the night (day?) before flooded back and he felt the fabric beneath his fingers start to give. That… that was not a dream, was it. He definitely was next to the Warrior yesterday. His ear was certainly on his chest and he was indeed hearing his heartbeat. They were on him, and had laid next to him and, and...

...he had been so, so warm… 

A’viloh leaned back, studying his friend’s expression. They felt just as confused as him, maybe even more. He needed to explain himself very soon, but this had precedence. A little more, and he would tear the sheets.

“I understand that what I am asking is very personal. Perhaps it would be best if you administered the drops yourself. I can place the bottle at your side and guide you aurally, if you wish,” he explained, voice reassuring and easy. It was so very tempting to reach out and take the sheet away from his friend’s death grip, but refrained. Especially with how his friend gasped at his words.

G’raha’s head snapped up, his back hurting from the tension. ‘No, no…! That wasn’t it at all! Just having you so close.’ Why was he in such a panic? He trusted the Warrior, he did. Why, why, why.

‘Relax. You will tear the blankets, so relax. Think of the Warrior, think of your next action. Think of what you could do next for him.’

Yes. Yes, that’s what he had done in the past. That’s what he could do. The next words flowed freely from his lips, it being easier to speak about the Warrior, though he still needed to explain himself. One step at a time. Let go of the blanket, and speak.

“I apologize, my friend. It seems that I am still mentally gathering my bearings. Forgive my hesitance. I have every trust in you. As I am sure I have told you, there were many books written about you in the Source. Many of them stated that while later in life you devoted yourself as a knight, your healing was unprecedented and your summoning magicks were unheard of. I have full faith in you finding the answer.”

A’viloh blinked in surprise, not having expected all of that. He saw the Exarch begin to relax and his tail uncurled from his waist, lying close to his side and out of A’viloh’s way. He no longer clutched the blankets and his normal subtle smile was there… But he wasn’t normal. There was still some type of tension in his ears and it made A’viloh uneasy.

He had asked for the Exarch’s consent before treating him as a whole, unfortunately not able to explain what he would do from not knowing all of the damage done towards the leader, but he _had_ asked. He was gentle in his treatment and had treated himself out of the room.

...but he had been treating the Exarch without anyone knowing. He had whisked the leader away in the middle of the night with only the Captain knowing of his location and even then, he had not been informing the stand-in leader of the Exarch’s condition. A’viloh’s eyes widen at the realization, ears slowly drooping.

Oh gods, he basically kidnapped the Exarch.

He didn’t mean to! He just… that’s what he thought would be best. The Exarch didn’t want his face to be shown yet and this was the only thing he could think of to keep his appearance hidden from his people. His room back at the Pendants was out of the question from the Exarch needing to be as close to the Tower as possible to recuperate, and what better way than to be inside the Tower itself?

He needed to explain himself whenever he found it appropriate. Even if he asked for consent, he took the reigns over the situation. The Exarch was incredibly accommodating, and while not exactly a push-over…

Shaking his head, he quietly stood and almost put his foot into the soup that he placed on the floor when he asked for permission. Quickly shoving it back into his bag once he walked to his make-shift station, he rummaged through to find the eye drops, finding a few in there. He realized the growing silence, never having really answered the Exarch’s words.

“I appreciate the kind words,” he answered quickly as he kept rummaging for more items. “I am nothing special, there are still some administrations that I need guidance on. I am no Chessamile. That woman is incredible--to be expected from the head chirurgeon in the Crystarium.” Small talk would have to do. His tense shoulders started to relax, putting the fire shards back into his bag. Food will have to come later.

“That she is,” the Exarch chuckled. From the looks of it, he also agreed on the small talk. A’viloh got a few items out of his bag while the Exarch continued. “She is an incredible healer and woman. Did you know that she was one of the very first to step into this city’s walls?”

“Is that so? Who else were the first ones in the Crystarium, if you don’t my asking?” Finding a small light, A’viloh went about cleaning his hands and drying them. He glanced over at the Exarch, making sure that he was fine on the bed. The leader hadn’t moved, but his ears did swivel all over whenever he heard movement. The Warrior remembered that when someone lost a sense, the others would be heightened; he needed to have care in not making too much noise.

“Ah, well… She is one of the very few who are still alive and able,” responded the Exarch. When A’viloh turned, he noticed the somber smile on the Exarch’s face and knew to not continue with that conversation. Time was already cruel, however, the conditions of the First made it worse. No one knew if they would live to see the morrow. The Warrior imagined that the creation of the Crystarium took many hands and was most likely the quickest project they had to accomplish given the circumstances.

As if sensing the Warrior’s sadness, the Exarch assured. “Do not misunderstand, my friend. The beginnings of this city may be a melancholy tale, however…” with a slight shift to make himself more comfortable, the Exarch’s smile warmed as he looked to the crystal ceiling, “...the many that made this city happen… They were all extraordinary people. No matter the losses or conditions that they had to work through, they made sure to see this city flourish; it is because of them that this city is what it is now.”

“Now, while I can muse on several tales until the next moon, we must needs get to business. Is there a certain position that you would like for me to be?” inquired the Exarch, turning his head in the general direction of the Warrior. The effects of not having sight were started to get to him. The world was too dark, far more than we wished… He quietly exhaled, neutralizing his expression to the best of his ability. For 100 years, he fervently wished for night to return to the First. Did he wish too hard and would no longer see the natural day? No, no, he must not think that way. The Warrior will find a cure, he fervently believed that.

“It is a beautiful city, one that I wish I could have committed to memory long ago.” A’viloh was surprised at how easily those words came out from him. Yes, that was the truth in his heart, but he didn’t mean to say it outloud. Now he will have to answer questions and--

“...If I may, could you explain a bit further what you mean with that?” There was one. Inhaling deeply, A’viloh let an easy smile settle on his face and finished his walk to the Exarch.

_‘He is still curious. Just like the lad.’_

He didn’t get close to the Exarch when they spoke for fear of stopping him. He could see how relaxed the leader now was, almost as if he had settled into his body again. Hearing him, hearing his long lost friend speak again--it was music to his ears. He wished to hear him speak until the morrow, however much time that was; he wasn’t going back to the clock to see the time, numbers could have meant morning or night when checked.

‘That he is, Esteem.’

“Before I do, let me get you checked first.” A’viloh closed his eyes, contemplating whether or not to say the rest. That same voice that was deep, deep within him urged him to get closer, to take that step and move forward. Sitting himself on the edge of the bed, the Exarch jumped.

“We will have more time to speak. May I place my hands on your face?”

There, there was the tension in the Exarch’s body again. Was he always this expressive…? ...No, it was more than that. No miqo’te could keep their ears plastered to their head for so long, nor could they keep their balance without the use of their tail. A’viloh’s mind was starting to wander, so with a firm shake, he waited for that slow nod and scotted closer, slowly placing his hands on G’raha’s face.

Oh

His face was soft

Were his lips…? Yes, they have always been that full… Right?

_Oh_

More thoughts clouded A’viloh’s mind. He was thinking too much. _There were too many._

Concentrate. Quietly inhale, hold. 1, 2, 3, let go. Quietly inhale, hold, 1, 2, 3, let go. Don’t be too loud. Don’t breathe on him. Keep yourself grounded.

_‘Warm, isn’t it?’_ came Esteem’s amused thought. _‘He also jumped. Guide him.’_

“My apologies, my hands are a bit cold,” murmured A’viloh. Keep your voice steady, keep breathing. Concentrate.

The Warrior gently turned the Exarch’s face in all directions, the bandages still wrapped around his forehead, if albeit a bit loosely. Another thing to worry about after.

Shining a small flashlight on the Exarch’s eyes, he instructed him where to look, to squint, relax, and other various instructions. A’viloh was steadily getting more comfortable in touching the leader, going into auto-pilot as he did the regular ministrations for someone afflicted with blindness. The more he did, the more his thoughts concentrated on the task at hand. Good, good…

“Good news and even better news. Which one would you like to hear first?” A’viloh questioned as he let go of the Exarch’s face. The leader was attentive throughout the whole process, although incredibly stiff. His hands never left the blanket, keeping them folded on his lap but he noticed his ears would turn to A’viloh and where he moved frequently. His tail was tucked under the sheets but it would every so often thump on the bed.

At the questions, the Exarch’s face softened with relief and beamed. “I am to assume that there is nothing permanent then? If so, how about in order, my friend.”

_‘You did well. Look at that face. You wouldn’t know that he was just as nervous as you, would you?’_

The Warrior put his flashlight away as he went turned to get the drops he put behind him, ignoring Esteem’s amusement. “You are indeed afflicted with blindness. The better news is that there is a cure for such a thing, which I am sure you know, and I have the cure for it right here.”

The Exarch wet his lips; usually one would have to drink the drops, and it’s been quite some time since he last took a sip of the medicine. He only hoped that it wasn’t as bad as the tonic that he was made to drink from time to time…

“Here’s what you should drink, and I have eye drops that should help speed up the process.”

Cold hands enveloped the Exarch’s, making him jump once again. Not having sight definitely had its disadvantages. However, he was hearing more things than expected. The clock was obnoxious and he will send that accursed thing to get fixed or put it in his other study by the Ocular. There were also those rumbling noises. Did the Warrior not hear them?

Taking the drink in one-go, the leader let the Warrior put the cold drops in his eyes. Ah, there was the rumbling again, and much closer.

“I have full faith that the medicine will help, my friend. The world is a bit too dark for my taste. And, I do believe my sense of hearing will assist me with adjusting for the day. That being said, do you… by chance hear that noise? It’s almost like a rumble...” A’viloh stiffened, sharply pulling back once he was done. He… did not mean his stomach, right?

“...That is the sound of the tower, yes…?” A’viloh muttered, angling his body away from the Exarch. Sharp pains went down his sides, making him curl in a bit with a pained expression; he has been without food for too long already. His vision was starting to change, his tongue too parched.

“No, no, the hum of the Tower is far quieter than that. There is… something more here. Can you not hear it?”

A’viloh cursed in his mind, swiftly standing with the bottles. One of his hands immediately went to the bed to steady himself, taking a deep breath. His stomach protested as if on queue, the Exarch’s ears quickly turning forward. A’viloh could see from the corner of his eye how they leaned forward, as if trying to get closer to the sound. A’viloh turned, taking a quiet step away and after some uncomfortable beats of silence, the Exarch finally asked.

“...My friend, is that your stomach?”

“...”

A’viloh did not have to turn around to know that he was in trouble. Gulping, he quietly walked over to the boxes to put the bottles away, ears pinned down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw how attentive the Exarch was, lips pursed with a firm expression. The glossiness from his eyes could not hide the concern that he felt and A’viloh interjected before the Exarch did.

“I apologize for how loud it is. I will be sure to eat something as soon as I am able.”

The Exarch frowned, bowing his head in thought. Now was not the time to scold. He had no right.

So much had happened in a short span of time. What transpired before being brought to the Tower was something that he could discuss with others, but all that happened after, he could only speak with the Warrior. Everything was just so strange. _He_ felt strange. The tension between them wasn’t as prominent when he had his hood up. On the contrary, he made _sure_ to be as relaxed as possible for the sake of the Warrior. He made sure to put magicks on himself to cover anything that would relate to his old life. Changing his voice was not much of an option although his time as leader changed his way of speaking.

He did everything in his power to ensure the Warrior’s success. The gold currency that he gave to Cassard that would go in the Warrior’s favor, the best room that they had in the Pendants, the sandwiches that he meticulously made… The stories telling of the Warrior of Darkness also assisted them greatly. It earned them high praise, not that they needed such stories for people to see their greatness.

Many things will change now that the sin eaters and Lightwardens are gone. Eulmore will change drastically from them no longer having their “esteemed king”, but he saw that the people were starting to adjust when he left. Things were changing, and they would be for the better.

Which meant that the relationship with the Warrior would change now that they knew who he was.

That the person who brought them here lied to them. That the G’raha Tia of the past was a manipulator. That the Crystal Exarch took away the little peace that the Scions and the Warrior had by bringing them to a world unknown to fix more problems.

Of course the relationship with the Warrior would be different. He deserved as much. He deserved to be nothing for the Warrior, that the friendship they had before be wiped away because of his actions. Death was more than he deserved. But yet, he was made to live. What a wretched conclusion.

The thoughts of both men were interrupted when they both heard a voice. Both of their ears turned towards the source, one of them unknowingly clutching the sheets to them yet again while the other face palmed with a soft curse. It was the Captain, the very same person that A’viloh swore that he would tell them of the Exarch’s condition. Had it really been that many days?

Turning his head, A’viloh spoke in a hushed tone. “Lyna is here. I have a robe that you can wear to conceal your appearance if that is still your wish. But you must decide fast.”

The Exarch hunched in, clearly taken off guard. The trust that he had for the Warrior was great from showing so much weakness at that moment, pale red eyes darting around on the bed. He knew that he needed to show his face and to stop being such a coward. But he truly hadn’t pieced together what he would say once his appearance was revealed. He never expected such an event to happen. He was to take the Warrior’s place by absorbing the light, perishing, and that would send the Warrior and the Scions back to the Source. That was the plan. Everything was so _wrong_ , the world _too dark_ \--

“G’raha.”

The Exarch snapped his head at the mention of his name, eyes wide. A’viloh snatched the hooded robe from his bag and ran to the bed. “We have many things that need to be discussed from much has happened to you--to us. We are mending in both mind and body, so believe me when I say, you do not have to be strong in the way that you wish. It is okay to hide. Lean on me just as how I leaned on you when I first came. I will do everything that I can to keep you safe.” A’viloh didn’t wait for the Exarch to respond as he swiftly placed the robe on his friend, quickly buttoning it up.

He called back to Lyna for her to give him a moment and turned back to his shivering friend. He hoped that the shaking was from the medicine and not from the nerves, though he couldn’t blame him. How long did he have to stay strong? How much longer did he have to be?

She couldn’t see him like this, he needed a plan.

“Ground yourself, just for a little while, G’raha. The hood will keep your eyes covered and Lyna will not be able to see your condition. Take three deep breaths and remind yourself of who you are in the First. I must let Lyna in or else she will start to suspect.” Ignoring his hunger pains, he sprinted to the door as quickly as he could, pushing the set of doors before bursting through the main one. The Captain jumped back at seeing the winded Warrior, stance immediately alert.

“Warrior, is everything alright? You did not have to run to the door, I am in no hurry.”

A’viloh tried to catch his breath, hands on his knees as he breathed through the pain.

‘You’re a hypocrite, A’viloh. Telling him to lean on you when you can’t even keep yourself up. Have more strength.’

Straightening, he gave the pink eyed Viera a sheepish smile. “Full glad am I to hear that. My body ran on auto-pilot--I didn’t know that so many days had already passed.”

That seemed to be the wrong answer apparently from how the Captain’s eyes narrowed. A’viloh did his best to push back his panic, keeping his hands on his hips with an easy smile. He subtly pressed on his sides to bring down the hunger pains and instead focus on the pains that he was giving to himself; his right side wasn’t too fond of such a treatment, but he ignored it. The Captain shifted her weight, crossing her arms over her chest as she took her normal stance when giving instructions to the other guards.

“Only two have passed, Warrior,” was her short reply.

“Only two…? So not much time has passed since I last saw you,” A’viloh answered easily. “The Tower does not have natural lightning, at least where we are situated, so we unfortunately have not been able to see the passing days.” Shifting his weight to mimic Lyna, his eyes warmed along with his smile. “You would like to see him, yes?”

It was an instantaneous reaction: the Viera’s ears stood straight up, her entire face softened, and her stance relaxed. A’viloh relaxed more, his smile becoming more natural. ‘It fills me with much happiness that he has someone that cares for him so much… If memory serves, he was the one who raised her to be the woman that she is today…’

“How is he, Warrior…?” Lyna asked quietly. She seemed to have gotten some of his mannerisms from how she slightly fidgeted in place. “You did not report to me as we agreed,” she scolded, though her eyes held no ill-will.

“My apologies, Captain. He is doing much better than when you last saw him. He shows signs of a slight concussion, but there doesn’t seem to be much physically there. He needs more rest and his duties should not be too strenuous once he returns to his position.” Not exactly the truth, but not a complete lie. The Exarch would need to have care once he took back his place as the leader of the Crystarium. A’viloh had neglected to check on his head and prayed that it was just a flesh wound and nothing more. The wound on his back… That could never be let out into the light, and he prayed even more that there would be no repercussions.

“Duly noted. Where is he, Warrior?”

“Right this way, Captain. As I said, he has a slight concussion, so do not be surprised if he does not have all of his senses.” Wrong analogy, A’viloh.

Despite Lyna staying quiet, her posture acknowledged A’viloh’s words. She quietly followed after the Warrior, gaze on his back, or so A’viloh thought from how intense it was. He did his best to walk normally, the pains all around his body starting to ache. He would need to take more medicine to relieve his sores and clean his wounds for the day. Meeting the Exarch, getting some food, and then checking on his wounds, that was the order that he would do things.

“I can see why you would not be able to tell the passing of day, Warrior. The Tower seems to be asleep.” A’viloh’s ears perked up, turning towards the Captain. She was standing under the strange hole in the ceiling, the only source of good light in the rotunda. Her gaze went to the Warrior, nodding past him. “Is he in there?”

A’viloh nodded and quietly opened the door. Light immediately flooded out, A’viloh closing his eyes so as to not look away and give the Captain more insight on his condition.

“Exarch, Lyna is here.” A’viloh announced, keeping his eyes closed as he slowly walked to said person’s desk. He knew to not interrupt their reunion, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the room; should something go awry, he needed to be there. Not that anything would, he did enough for the situation to be right.

Or so he hoped. Lyna was unmoving from the entrance of the room, alert and focused on the person who was still on the bed. A’viloh slowly opened both eyes, letting them adjust to the immense brightness. The Exarch was where the Warrior had left him, but there was more confidence in him, even if it was all a ruse. His shoulders were back, the same gentle smile on his lips and he had turned in the direction of the Captain. ‘Keep it up, G’raha. You’re doing great,’ A’viloh cheered mentally. ‘Just a bit more to ease her thoughts.’

“....Exarch.” Brown ears pinned down from the brokenness that came out from Lyna. His eyes widened at how she let herself droop and almost break down where she stood. No longer was she the Captain at that moment.

No, she was still the same little girl that the Exarch held when he rescued her so many years ago. The same little girl who clung to him wordlessly while her tears damped his cloak as he brought her back into the sanctuary that would become their home.

The memories of that time flooded in as she took quick strides to reach him, collapsed onto her knees and clung to his hands for dear life. Ripping her gloves off, she threw them on the ground while she kneeled, refusing to touch him with the same armor that had touched her enemies that still lived as well as the ones that she was forced to slay. The only sounds that came out from her were sniffles, needing to compose herself before she spoke again. There were far too many emotions running through her heart and even more thoughts in her head.

A’viloh was glad that the stars were in their favor. He had no idea of the Exarch’s expression, and he had a feeling that the red-haired miqo’te was grateful for such a fact. None of his emotions were fake. They could not be, not with how Lyna was. The only change he could see was G’raha’s slight agape lips and him leaning forward when his hands were taken. He waited a moment before a truly gentle smile came onto his lips, closing his fingers around his granddaughter’s larger hands. Lyna lifted her head, pink eyes peering into the shadow of his face. The Exarch knew well enough the expression that she was making: swollen eyes, trembling lips, eyes as soft and needy as when she would plead to be picked up after a nightmare. In the past, it took awhile for her to settle down and sleep peacefully, but that time lessened the older she got.

His cold thumbs rubbed the top of her hands, coming a bit closer and getting as much to her eye level as he thought he could. “I am here, Lyna,” he softly reassured. “No amount of words will ever express how sorry I am in leaving such a heavy burden on you.” He kept stroking her hands, not once letting them go. Lyna sniffed as she gripped his cold hands tighter, rubbing her face into her shoulders and sleeves. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped when he lifted her hands and brought them to his lips, giving them the faintest of kisses. Her lips trembled more as she did her best to bring back the sob that wanted to escape but failed. The gesture was the same as how it was when she could barely walk, so full of love and warmth. He would bring her hands up and give them the lightest of kisses, that sometimes being the only thing that would calm her. That was the last piece of love that her mother gave to her before ceased to exist, after all.

That was the last thing the Exarch saw before the tiny Viera became his one and only family member in the First. Before he cut down the sin eater that killed his granddaughter’s mother, and then the newly transformed sin eater.

“I do not deserve your tears, nor your care. But if you will open your heart, please believe me when I say, I am so sorry, Lyna.” He folded her hands into fists and kept them close to his chest. He bowed his head, letting his (hopefully) steady heartbeat thump through their hands. The only thing that was keeping his own tears from coming was him trying to still his granddaughter’s shaking hands.

“I am so proud of you, Lyna,” he whispered. “You have done so much for the Crystarium and our people. This should not have been another burden for you to carry, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

‘Thank you for trusting me. I am deeply sorry for having abused your trust. I will mend this. I must.’

With one last kiss to her hands, his cold thumbs stroked the back of her hands, them no longer shaking. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you, my dearest Lyna.”

‘Thank you, my dearest granddaughter.’

Lyna could no longer hold back her sobs and carefully broke her hands free to wrap them around her grandfather’s waist, weeping into the sheets as she pressed her face into his lap.

The last thing A’viloh saw when he quietly left the room was the Exarch placing his hands on her trembling back and rubbing all over it, lips moving with quiet reassurances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's that soft Lyna that I think I promised. You know who you are :)
> 
> I know I sound like a broken record player, and I will still keep saying it. I never expected such wonderful comments and all of the kudos for this story. Maybe 1 or 2 in total for this whole series, so I am absolutely blown away from how much I have received. But more than that, I want to thank all of you for just stopping by and reading! Thank you, thank you, thank you!
> 
> As I have done in the past chapters, I want to recognize some people and their incredible works. They definitely inspire me every time I read/see their work and bring me much happiness!
> 
> For the author, I am sure that many of you have read Lady_Otori's works. All of their FFXIV works are incredible and I especially enjoy the stories that involve their WoL (Alis Propriis Volat). The work, "Sleep Without Dreams", definitely inspired me for this chapter and it is a delight. I think many of our WoL's can relate, both canon and not. Please check it out if you haven't already, along with their other works! They have also written lots of Naruto fanfics, and I shall definitely give them a read down the line!
> 
> As for the artist, TamTia (@nawofu_mochi), is definitely an artist to look into. Their art is incredible and I absolutely love how they draw soft scenes with G'raha. Some of their works are NSFW, along with Lady_Otori's, so just giving you the heads up! There is also one piece of art that really inspired the last scene in this chapter, which you can see here --> https://tksnim.tumblr.com/post/187834582172/story-of-lyna. It will definitely touch your heart :'D
> 
> Again, thank you so, so much for stopping by and reading this chapter. Have a good one and be well! :)


	7. ...to Show You What is Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _‘Forget that. You said so yourself: Damn those titles. You are your own person. Speak from the heart; shrink not from your emotions, for they are your greatest asset.’_
> 
> “How could I forget the man that made me think of life as more than just duties? As more than a trial put on me by the Twelve themselves? You were the very first who treated me as my own person and not as the title that follows me.”
> 
> _‘Pay attention to what is in front of you, not to the what ifs and maybes.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! This one took longer than I expected from the editing process taking longer than usual. This was ready about 2 weeks ago, but certain parts didn't sit well with me so I postponed it I could re-read and re-edit it. There are still some bits that could still have work, but I am content enough to post it how it now is.
> 
> I know that I said that we would get past the angst but uh, there is still some in here ^^;; I will say, it gets better towards the end to where it even gave me some good feels (not trying to toot my own horn, promise!). Excuse the abrupt ending, the next chapter will be a bit longer (the longest from all of the current chapters posted), so I had to end it somewhere.
> 
> As always, there will be an author and artist in the end notes for you all to check out (or go through their works again if you've already seen their works)!
> 
> Thank you so, so much for the wonderful comments and kudos to my work. They bring me much joy every time I get an email notification about them, but most of all, thank YOU for taking the time in leaving such wonderful gifts and taking the time to read this creation :)
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

A’viloh did not go far, keeping his back pressed to the door as he did his best to concentrate on his breathing. He tried to tune out the moment the Exarch and Lyna had, feeling ashamed at having intruded on such a moment, but he couldn’t leave his friend on their own until he knew that they would be fine without him.

The Captain came out a bit after, looking as if nothing ever happened. But A’viloh saw how much more relaxed she was, all of the tension in her body having left in the arms of her grandfather. She had bags under her eyes, no doubt from her having to do double duty, yet she still stood tall and ready to spring into action.

“I will take my leave, Warrior. He stated that he will be fine in your care and that he will be the one to come to me. He is still as cryptic as before, so I know not if he will come to me for his duties or in regards to the talk that we will surely have,” Lyna explained. She knew that their talk was inevitable, whether he liked it or not, but knew not to push. The Warrior was right about G’raha not being at his best and Lyna preferred for the leader to stay with someone capable enough to keep him in bed. It had been _years_ since she last saw him rest like this. Then again, the Exarch had never been in such a position before.

“That is music to my ears,” A’viloh laughed with a wiggle of his ears. “I think he knows now how terrible I am to report on such matters.”

“Yes, he most certainly does,” Lyna deadpanned, having made sure to really pound on her grandfather on how important it was for him to let her know of things since the Warrior clearly could not.

“Is there anything else that you require of me, Warrior? Any more medicine?”

He put a hand under his chin, bowing his head to think. He still had plenty of herbs, potions, and bandages. Anything else, he could make do with what he had. The worst was now over. He still needed to check on the Exarch’s back, and also his forehead. There was also a matter of taking off the rest of his bandages and tending to those bruises… 

“I believe that we should be well with some rest, Captain,“ A’viloh clarified with a shake of his head. “It was my intention to ask for a surplus of supplies in the beginning from not knowing what I was working with. Thankfully, I have not had the need to use it all.”

“I see… I shall go back to my duties then.” Lyna nodded and turned on her heel. She was almost out of the Ocular but stopped at the main doors, a hand pressed on the wooden surface.

“...Do take the chance to eat, Warrior. There is food in the kitchen of this Tower, I assure you. I have made sure to stock it up every chance I get.” And then she was gone.

A’viloh sheepishly hugged his waist, tail winding up on one of his legs. Had the sounds really been that noticeable?

Once the rumbling had ceased, he sighed deeply and went back to the bedroom, not once letting go as his ears pressed down on his head from embarrassment.

...Just in time to see the Exarch up on his feet in the middle of the room, arms stretched out before him and about to take another step forward.

“G’raha!” A’viloh exclaimed in shock. ‘What is he doing out of bed?!’

His voice echoed too loudly from how the other Miqo’te flinched harshly, curling up a bit. He was still in the robe the Warrior gave to him, too large on the leader from the looks of it. The sleeves hung from his wrists and the bottom of the robe bundled from the height difference. If A’viloh had been paying more attention, he would have swooned at how comical the Exarch looked. But this was not the time nor the place.

He swiftly came over to the leader, taking both of his hands in one and started to lead him back to the bed. What stopped him was how tightly they grasped his, just like how Lyna had done not too long ago. A’viloh looked down at the smaller Miqo’te in surprise, coming a bit closer when he saw the Exarch opening his mouth and closing it. This happened a couple more times until he lowered his head with a self-decapritive laugh.

“I… I-I have no idea what’s gotten into me. I was fine when Lyna held me. Perfectly fine. It… it grounded me and gave me the strength that I needed to be well for her sake. B-But when you both were gone, the room was so… s-so loud, I… I couldn’t keep myself in. The world is too dark, the hum is too much, it’s--” The Exarch took in a shallow breath, needing to say part of his thoughts. He tried. He honestly did try to be strong, just how his Warrior asked. But it was hard to be strong when he had to be strong for himself. It was always, _always_ easier for him to be strong for someone else. For Lyna. For his people. For his Warrior.

A’viloh frowned at the Exarch’s words, eyes narrowing in concern. The blindness was starting to get to him, the medications giving him one of its inevitable side-effects. When one sense was gone, another one would be far superior than before, in this case, his sense of hearing. That being said, it was also normal for people afflicted to become a bit more erratic from the world being too much (in this instance, too dark) for their comfort.

“--it’s a bit much to take all in. I will… I will do my best to be well. I will be strong for Lyna, the people of the Crystarium, the Scions--how can I forget such important people. They need me. They need me to get better in order to take up my position now that my plan has failed. And the Scions… the Scions need to get back. I need to start from square one with my readings and research. I need--”

“--to rest. You need to rest, G’raha.”

“Re-Rest?” G’raha was taken aback, stepping back in shock.

His Warrior should have understood.

They were busy all the time to the point where _he_ had to ask the Warrior to settle down. Did he not understand the predicament at hand? He, the Crystal Exarch, _failed_! The Scions could no longer go home, he had no idea how he could send them back, and there was so much that still needed to be done in the Crystarium. Others will lean and have expectations that such a prosperous city will lend them a hand.

He was shaking at this point from the amount of anger that was building up inside of him. No, no… He needed to calm down. He had to be logical and just _explain how he failed_ on a plan that he _meticulously thought through for almost a century_ \--

“How… How could I _possibly_ do such a selfish thing when there’s still _so much_ to--”

A’viloh couldn’t let this continue. His friend was angry, clearly shown from their shaking and tone of voice, and that he would anger them more should he interrupt using words. Perhaps actions would do the trick? Slowly, he laid the tips of his fingers on his friend’s forearm to test the waters and felt how tense the leader became.

‘His back… He is going to hurt his back at this point, and give himself a headache.’

It did… something, the Exarch clamping his mouth shut. He didn’t push A’viloh away, which surprised both of them, though the blind miqo’te did take another step back.

Waiting a few moments, A’viloh placed his entire hand on the Exarch’s forearm, his crystal one to be precise, lifted the other one to place it on their head, and pushed the hood down. G’raha’s ears didn’t sprung up like A’viloh expected. Instead, they were low behind him, lips in a tight line and having a glossy glare that would burn even the most protected black mage. The Warrior wasn’t surprised at his expression and closed his eyes. His expression, it was so much like how it would get in the past whenever he got deeply annoyed.

So much like the past.

Taking a deep breath, he thought it best to speak from the heart rather than with logic. “Can you blame me for requesting that? Listen to my words, my dearest friend, not to what plagues your mind.” Placing both hands on G’raha’s forearms, he kept his grip light as he continued in a soothing voice, “You have done… so, so much. You needed my assistance in saving the First and brought my family to this land before bringing me here.” The Exarch took half a step back as he flinched, bowing his head at the reminder, but A’viloh didn’t let him go far, taking a long, full step forward. He needed to keep going, but gently. Encouraging.

_‘Help him see.’_

“You had this massive plan that would ensure the salvation of not just one, but two worlds. The one who has had to stay strong for the masses and keep hope alive for them has been the Crystal Exarch. In order words, **you**. Correct me if I am wrong, but I do believe that this same Exarch has been the one who, without fail, checks on all the major facilities and the people who run them every single day, no matter what other duties ties him down on his desk. Or so, that is what everyone at the Crystalline Mean, Amaro Launch, Spagyrics, Musica Universalis, and so many other places have told me.” A’viloh’s hands took careful, short stops when they went down the Exarch’s arms as he spoke, squeezing them here and there to loosen him up. They reached his hands and grasped them, rubbing large circles on the top and palm of his hands. A’viloh hoped that with having some of his other senses react, it would lessen the effects of the medicine, among other things. He turned the Exarch’s hands while he massaged, noticing how they would try to pull away at times but A’viloh kept at it, never letting their hands part. Was he hurting him? He hoped not. 

With every single good point A’viloh brought up, G’raha closed himself up more and more, as if trying to physically push away the words. A’viloh’s shoulders drooped at that, deciding it would be best to change his tactic. “I can go on and on with all that you have done, but I can see that you would not benefit from such a thing.”

Looking down at their hands, he paid attention to his friend’s transformation, _really_ paid attention. Golden veins covered his crystal hand--or were they the bands prior to the crystal overtaking it?--the top having semi-smooth crystal, though not by much. His fingers were as smooth as growing crystal could get, though still able to bend and grasp objects. The temperature on each finger would vary, though A’viloh had a hunch it was because of G’raha’s body still trying to regulate his body temperature. His other hand was just as strong as he remembered, calloused fingers rubbing against his. His bands were off, being able to clearly see the amount of muscle he still had. Despite the amount of time that had passed, his physique was still the same, having the same strong bard arms that would carry a handful of books to their shared tent every night during that long year of research.

The robe was hiding every other part of his body with the exception of his neck, the crystal apparent at the sides. He remembered the tattoos that the miqo’te had long ago, his eyes always landing on them whenever the red-haired man got into some sort of mischief. For such an intelligent individual, A’viloh would always question such a fact whenever his friend’s actions were the opposite. It took him a while after he was gone to come to terms with such that, more so that it was always done on purpose.

Shaking his head to stop the thoughts of the past, his earrings faintly clinked as the Exarch’s ears pivoted at the noise. Ah, that’s right, he had to wear them again from the healing properties they gave him. G’raha’s head was still bowed and he let the Warrior do as he pleased with his hands for the moment. He was grateful that the anger he felt minutes ago had left and he was willing to listen. Perhaps… perhaps, he could say a bit of his part, but he had to make sure it would be alright.

A’viloh leaned down a bit, trying to see his expression, but his earrings gave him away and the Exarch turned away from him, taking a few steps back at the realization and effectively pulling his hands away. No, it was _his_ turn to speak.

“...All that I have done… from the words that you speak, I have reason to believe that Urianger told you. Of what… of what was revealed to me all of those years ago when we… I was still at the Source.” His voice was quiet and full of pain. Hands trembled from the memories flooding back, his dark world painting a perfect picture of his past. Teeth bit into the bottom of his chapped lip, the skin cracking from the pressure. A dull ache surfaced on his head, his right hand coming up to gently rub at the pain. He felt the loose cloth under his cool fingers, keeping them there to keep the cloth stationary. He laughed with no joy, closing himself once more.

“I slumbered with hopes of seeing a better world… and was forced to wake into a hellish reality,” he choked out.

“ ‘Black Rose has taken over Gridania… It has spread through Limsa Lominsa… Ul’dah is no more… Ishgard has fallen into ruins… Hingashi is at war… Ala Mhigo has too many dead... ” He took a ragged deep breath, wrapping his shaking arms around himself as he retold the past, of the city that fell into ruin. “ ‘The… The Warrior of Light has fallen!’ ‘Our last hope is gone!’ ‘The Scions are no more!’ “ he kept going, each sentence bringing his strong walls down more and more. And finally--

“ ‘The Eighth Umbral Calamity has come, Master G’raha. Eorzea will fall into ruins. But there is a way to stop it. Please, will you help us?’ ” He croaked. Taking a few deep breaths, he forced himself to continue, his voice wavering in and out from all of the memories.

“I did not need any further proof. I knew… I knew that there was much that I could do. I was reminded of my destiny. We filled this tower with as many books we could find in the short amount of time that the last remaining...” he shook his head, bringing a hand to cover his face, “...the last sane adventurers could aloit us. We knew what had to be done. And thus was I brought here, sacrificing the lives of the good few that remained for a hope of a better morrow.”

“100 years… 100 long years passed before that plan came to fruition. And you succeeded, Warrior of Darkness.” Despite the good news, his emotions betrayed his words. His mind was clearing up, thoughts that were muddied up because of the medicine breaking forth. “I would have willingly waited 100 more if it would ensure your success. I am but a stepping stone for your greatness, my dear friend.” Yes, a stepping stone. It was so much easier to talk about the Warrior than the past. This was right, this _must_ be right.

He finally turned, arms still wrapped around himself, albeit loosely, as he gave the best smile he could muster, making full sure to close his eyes and perk his ears. Yes, the Warrior did succeed. Vauthry, Innocence, was no more. The Light was gone. His part was over and his story was done. All that remained was to send the Scions back with the only way he knew how.

And yet…

“You have accomplished the impossible, A’viloh. Your part here is done. All that remains is for your companions at the Source to do theirs. In a few days, I shall have the strength to send you back home for you to tell the good news to Mistress Tataru. The Scions, they will join you shortly after.”

Oh, how painful. This was the only way, however; the fastest way to stop the Calamity from happening.

No.

No, no, nononono-

“...That is… That is all?” The Exarch’s smile vanished, ears swiveling forward at the words. He had never heard the Warrior use such a tone. His hands dropped, eyebrows furrowed. He pushed away the chill that ran down his spine as his mind quickly thought of the times he lacked composure the last few days; of course his mind tried to rationalize that the reason why everything was not how it should be was his fault. True, this had been the weakest he had been in a very long time, but no more. The Allagan blood running through his veins was working to get rid of his ailments, the medicine administered to him doing its job already. In some hours, he will have sight, and if all goes well, he could start working on preparing the portal to send the Warrior back.

This was right.

“...” The same easy smile appeared on the Exarch, a new thought coming. Ah, that was quite short, wasn’t it? The Warrior deserved far more praise than the feeble words he had given him. Praise. Yes, that is what he should hear. For that was right.

“No, of course not. You have done far too much to receive just a morsel of praise.” Clearing his throat, the Exarch continued, his smile turning a tad sheepish. “Though I am without sight at the present, I was fortunate to have been able to see how much you have done here in Norvrandt through my portal, Warrior of Darkness. The people of Rak’tika Greatwood will have full aid of the Crystarium as soon as we have assessed our situation, and I promise you that will be my first priority once you and the Scions have returned to the Source. Kholusia will be a bit more difficult to help, but I fully believe that the people who aided in the giant Talos will assist us.”

“Il Mheg is now under a new ruler and one I have full faith will keep everyone in line. Feo Ul is certainly one of character, we need not worry too much. Should they need any type of assistance, we will send it.”

“The Tempest will be the most difficult of all. There is far too much to do with that place for it to go back to its original state. I will have to enlist in the aid of the new King as I felt some magick that I am not too familiar with when we were down in those depths. Be at ease, we will see this through, my friend.” Yes, truthfully reassure him. Do not be false, they have gone through enough lies in one lifetime. Logic, be logical. Taking a step forward, his smile became more genuine as he spoke from _his_ heart.

“But none of this would have been possible were it not for your aid, Warrior of Darkness. If I have given my people strength, you have given them unbounded hope. None will ever forget your deeds or how you selflessly came to their salvation. That has always been one of your strengths, my dear friend. No matter who would ask for help, you would always be the first to give it. It is one of your charms, if I may say,” he chuckled, faded eyes growing fond at remembering the praises he heard at the Crystarium when he made his rounds.

That long year--No, no. None of that. Push it back.

“....That is… that is all...”

The leader tilted his head, barely having heard his Warrior. He was right there in front of him from how he could now feel his aether, thanks to the Tower. Then why was he so faint? Ah! Those noises from before. He needed to eat, and quickly.

“For the moment. You are hungry, yes? Come, Lyna always keeps the kitchen fully stocked, as I am sure that she told you. I apologize, you will need to guide me to the rotunda, and from there, I can surely tell you which door the kitchen is in if she did not show it to you. Come, come.”

The sound of something heavy hitting the floor made his blood run cold, red eyes widening. Did the Warrior faint?

“A’viloh? A’viloh are--” strong arms wrapped around his waist, halting his words. He felt the Warrior press their face against his midsection, their hold tightening to where the Exarch had to re-adjust his balance.

“That is… that is not all… That cannot be all…”

The Exarch hesitantly placed his hands on the Warrior’s shoulders, remembering the wound that was on their left shoulder the moment he felt bandages and immediately removed his hand. The one he could place, he felt the slight tremble and then grow to full-on shaking.

Was the… was the Warrior of Darkness crying…?

“Please… Please do not push me away… Not again… Please, not again…”

The Exarch was horrified, realizing too late his mistake. Push away. They meant after the door was closed, didn’t they.

He just needed to explain himself. The Warrior was a logical person, surely they will understand. He has always been a logical man.

Nodding to himself, the Exarch lightly squeezed the Warrior’s cold shoulder and bent slightly, voice gentle. “Warrior, I am… I am not G’raha Tia. That man, he is still at the Source, sleeping soundly within the Tower. He is safe, I promise you.” Still, they shook, and the Exarch continued, the words coming out rushed from how unnerved he was getting. “I am the Crystal Exarch, a title that my people gave me when I first came. And, despite my earlier actions, I wear the title with pride. Lyna and I will see to their needs once you are gone and all will be well--”

“YOU ARE G’RAHA TIA! YOU BOTH ARE G’RAHA TIA!”

The desperate cry rang through the room, deafening them both for a few moments. Never had the Warrior yelled at anyone, and never had G’raha been yelled at with such force. A’viloh buried his face further into the man’s stomach, his cries echoing as he tried to choke out the little sentences his throat could bring out.

“You are… You are G’raha Tia! You are the same man with whom I shared a tent with all of those years ago! You are the same man that brought me books to help with the investigation into the Tower--this same Tower! You were the one that--that would ask for my opinions on matters that I never thought had importance! You are the same man who made me… made me think...” He swallowed his spit, having choked on it from how desperately he tried to get those words out before the Exarch pushed him away. Not again, please… not again…

“G’raha Tia and the Crystal Exarch were the ones that welcomed me into the walls of this city! G’raha Tia and the Crystal Exarch were the ones that healed me through Holminster Switch! Both were there when you gave me my room at the Pendants… When you gave me those sandwiches… When we saved Lakeland against those sin eaters. You were there in Tomra when we needed to assist that dwarf. You saved me from that sin eater… I… I… ” A’viloh lifted his head, barely being able to see how his friend looked down at him with several emotions. Worry, concern, _fright_ \--

_‘Keep going. Help him see.’_

“I called your name after my battle with Innocence,” his breath hitched, his arms letting go and clutched at the robe. “I remembered you, G’raha. I remembered you for so many years. You stayed with me throughout my many victories. And you… you remembered our adventures, didn’t you?” That expression didn’t change, becoming more pained, had more guilt, had _all of the emotions that he did not wish to see._

‘I… I am not reaching him. I am failing.’

His grip loosened up, shoulders slowly coming down.

‘Please don’t go, please don’t go, please, please, please… ‘

“I was… I was the one you spoke of in the cliffs of Kholusia. You wanted to… wanted to go on adventures with me, didn’t you…?” His forehead went back on G’raha’s stomach, the world around him blurring. Was it from his mind breaking yet again, or from the lack of food?

“You spoke so fondly on those cliffs… You say all of these… these things about me…” To hell with keeping the image of Warrior of Light or Darkness or anything else. Damn those titles. Damn them all.

‘You were one of the few that treated me like a person.’

“Why do you push me away again…” wept the Warrior. “I want to stay here…!”

‘...He is pushing me away because _I_ pushed _him_ away all those years ago. That’s it. Because of how much I wanted to protect myself, I pushed him away. I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve any of these things. Oh gods, A’viloh… How you have doomed yourself…’

_‘Is that truly what you think, Warrior? That you cannot be human and make mistakes?’_ came the voice deep in his mind.

‘I… I yelled at him, Esteem. I kidnapped him, I gave him unknown medicine--it could have killed him--and yelled at him.’

_‘Forget that. You said so yourself: Damn those titles. You are your own person. Speak from the heart; shrink not from your emotions, for they are your greatest asset.’_

A’viloh lifted his head, breathing as quietly as he could from his mouth, his nose long clogged up. He blinked a few times, trying to see through his tears to focus on the person above him and they widened.

They still showed so much, despite having no sight. If A’viloh could see himself, he was sure that they both looked the same. He wondered how he did not feel the tears from his friend from how much there were, trailing down his flushed cheeks. His nose was redder than his hair while his ears were pressed to his head. But his eyes… Oh how much sorrow they showed. The grief that he felt in his heart was shown clearly. Though they could not focus on him, A’viloh knew that they meant to.

Trembling hands rose from his sides, reaching for something. A’viloh blinked at them, seeing how they searched desperately. The Warrior sat on his knees, letting his head lightly bump into one of them. G’raha briefly retracted his hand at the contact but then lightly placed his hand onto the Warrior’s head, almost as if testing the waters. A’viloh had tilted his head down at that, peering up at the leader. The tears still fell, G’raha biting his lip. A’viloh realized that he did so to stop his sobs from coming out, some of them still escaping. The other hand fell onto one of the Warrior’s ears, retracting slightly again and instead letting his fingers trail down. Left human hand slowly cupped the Warrior’s face, ice cold thumb rubbing under their eye while the right crystal hand ran through A’viloh’s hair to settle on the back of his head. He kept his gaze where he believed the Warrior was, taking shallow breaths as he kept stroking under the Warrior’s eye.

“I… I do not want you to suffer like I did, A’viloh. I waited… so long for your coming,” G’raha sobbed out. ”100 long, lonely years with naught but the pages of the books in this Tower to inform me of your deeds. They portrayed… the most _beautiful_ of images in my mind. Images and stories and adventures that I… that I desperately wanted to see. What little illustrations these books could give me, that is all I had of you. What little I could remember of you and our adventures, they were all that I had left of you. There was a time where I could not even remember your face.” He continued to weep, bowing his head from the deep pain resurfacing from that day. If he could erase certain memories, he wished with all of his heart to forget that one.

“When I could finally, _finally_ call you, those fleeting memories were my only anchor to you. They were so, so faint. I could not even visualize you--” He turned his head; another memory, another failure that he made. Biting his lip again, the grip on the back of A’viloh’s head tightened slightly, not at all painful. There was silence for a good while after, the gentle hum of the Tower and twin breathing being the only sounds, G’raha’s rubbing having stopped long before. A’viloh stayed still, only tilting his head up slightly, earrings clinking once. That seemed to break the other miqo’te’s trance, his rubbing resuming. Closing his eyes, he tried to say something other than what was on his mind, certain sentences that the Warrior said sticking in his muddled thoughts.

“...Even though I could only remember your name and how you were as a person, you… you never forgot about me, the Crystal Exarch. And about G’raha Tia--” A’viloh narrowed his eyes, making a point by roughly shaking his head and grabbed G’raha’s hands, giving them a painful squeeze. Said miqo’te winced from the pressure, a bitter smile appearing from getting the hint and continuing.

“You met so many people after we parted,” his voice cracked at the last part--another memory. “You traveled to the cold lands of Ishgard and stopped the Dragonsong War, crossed the seas to Hingashi and liberated both Doma and Ala Mhigo, flew through the same skies shared by all lands, swam through the waters connecting them, and even then, _even then_ \--you remembered that shunned young scholar whose cursed eyes never wavered from the Tower that would become his prison.”

A’viloh lowered his head, his hands still holding G’raha’s. Before, they were loose and limp. Now, they held his tight. A slight smile came up, lifting his head, as well as his hands and his friend’s, to lay them on his face. G’raha’s eyes widened slightly at feeling damp skin under his palms, and then the lifting of A’viloh’s cheeks.

“I met many people, that is true. I did travel to those places and did all of those deeds, as those stories say. I can say with certainty that I do not remember all of the faces and names that got me to where I am now. But… ” The fondness that A’viloh spoke with, it was enough to bring a fresh set of tears in G’raha’s eyes.

“How could I forget the man that made me think of life as more than just duties? As more than a trial put on me by the Twelve themselves? You were the very first who treated me as my own person and not as the title that follows me.” His smile grew even more, the words coming out easier as he put his heart before him. Yes, this was right. This was _right._

“Of course I remembered you, G’raha Tia. Crystal Exarch, whatever it is that you wish to be. Only know that you are _both._ You were my very first friend that opened my world and showed me how beautiful it was. Yes, I went through all of those adventures, but I could truly live through them because of you. You taught me that. My… ” He took a deep breath, voice shaking as he drew from deep within him--and took the stabs Esteems was jabbing at him to _get a move on_ \--to say what he was forced to bury in his soul all of those years ago.

“...My dearest and most beloved scholar. This tower is not your prison. You have done things to connect yourself to this place, but it does not have to chain you. You… ” he pressed G’raha’s hands more on his face, mimicking him with his emotions.

“You are no longer alone. I am here. None of these goodbyes because of your duties making it so. Yes, I will have to return to the Source, but… “ He licked his lips, doubt settling in his eyes. What was happening back at the Source? How long would he have to stay there? _Could_ he come back?

_‘Pay attention to what is in front of you, not to the what ifs and maybes,’_ Esteem scolded. He was thinking too much again. Pay attention. In front, above, around. Say what’s in your heart.

“...But I will come back. I have to come back. I want… I _want_ to come back to you, G’raha. You are too important to me. Far, far too important. You made the choice to slumber--now I am making the choice to stay--with you. I want to stay with you--” Things happened too quickly after that. One moment G’raha was above him, cradling his face and in the next, he was on his knees, face pressed into A’viloh’s chest. A’viloh blinked rapidly, worry flaring up. His hands quickly went onto the smaller miqo’te’s shoulders, pushing him back slightly to get a better look-- _was he in pain, did he faint, did his wounds cause this_ \--but G’raha was stronger, pushing forward as he wrapped his arms tight around the Warrior’s torso.

He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay with him. His Warrior said that he was important. He was important. He wasn’t just a stepping stone, was he? He mattered. More than that, he mattered to the Warrior of Darkness. And he was still here. He was here, in front of him, and he was touching him. He could hold him. G’raha Tia could hold him, cry to him, speak to him. Be with him.

He was here, he was here… 

A’viloh did as G’raha wanted: wrap his strong arms around his smaller form, hold him close, and just _be_. He pressed himself as much as he was able to the Warrior--his Warrior--almost molding himself to their form, and let himself go. A’viloh’s side ached from how G’raha pressed into him, but he dared not complain or push away. How long had it been since they were this comfortably close?

_‘Never.’_

All of the years of holding himself back, all of the years he had to push back the tears, his frustrations, his humanity--he let it all go. He shook, he sobbed, he clung, he drooled, his nose ran, he ached all over, he was tired, he had a headache, his back was in pain, his knees were bruised, his eyes stung, his hair was a mess, his crystal was too heavy—

But everything was _alright._ He felt _human_. _He was alright_.

The longer he placed his weight on his Warrior, the lighter he felt, his crystal rebalancing itself. He felt right. Normal, human, _right._

Both of them didn’t know how long they were in that position--only that it was a long while. Their knees had long since gone numb, A’viloh was as cold as the floor, the light was still too bright--but he wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. His cheek was on top of G’raha’s head, one arm around his waist while his other hand was behind his head, fingers at times lightly stroking those faded red ears. They would twitch every so often at the contact, coming up whenever he would pull away and the arms around his torso would tighten. Did he like that?

A’viloh let G’raha set the pace, being the pillar that his friend so desperately needed at that moment. Once G’raha felt ready enough, he lightly pushed on A’viloh’s chest, steadying himself. A’viloh waited patiently, hands on G’raha’s shoulders; he was still without sight and had no aid, so physical contact was key.

He lifted his head, blinking a few times. He hoped that he was somewhat right in where he was looking, giving A’viloh an apologetic smile.

“Not only have you had to take care of me physically, but it seems that I had to ask for your strength in mind as well. I-I do not envy my lack of sight--I have made a right mess of things.” He sniffed, bringing his sleeve up to wipe at his nose--and stopping right after when realizing that those were _not_ his robes, mortified.

A’viloh couldn’t stop himself from laughing and instantly regretted it, his whole body aching from the hearty movement. He closed himself up, hands going down to G’raha’s forearms as he laid his forehead on his shoulder, breathing deeply to push down the pain.

“As have I, G’raha. There is a saying that I heard back in Ishgard that I think sums this up well, though not as eloquent: it takes two to tango. We will work through it; we are human after all. Yes, you are still human, G’raha,” A’viloh interjected when he saw G’raha look down at his right arm in doubt.

“Now, I do think that we will be much more comfortable in any other setting arrangement than the one we are currently in.” Letting go of G’raha’s shoulders, he slowly began to stand, praising the Twelve for his friend’s lack of sight from the amount of expressions he was making; he was definitely going to suffer for the rest of the day.

“O-Of course! The space is sparse, but there are still other seating areas we can go to,” G’raha agreed, accepting A’viloh’s help in standing.

“If it’s all the same to you, we can remain in your room, unless you prefer to go elsewhere, of course. I must also check on your wounds, particularly your back and eye sight, as well as mine own.” He grabbed G’raha’s hand, slowly walking over to the bed, needing to really think of his movements from the pain. First G’raha and then himself; he prayed that his wounds were the worst.

“Of course, of course,” G’raha approved, though his expression said otherwise. His Warrior was doing all of the work and here he was, adding more to his burden. His back did indeed hurt, the wound aching with stab-like pain here and there and his head was still throbbing, but he would manage. There was one thing that his Warrior neglected to say…

“Though… I do believe I heard some strange sounds coming out of you, my friend… ” A’viloh stiffened, his grip on G’raha’s hand tightening slightly from the not-so-innocent tone. Caught.

“We should get that taken care of first before any other type of work is done. You will use whatever is available in the kitchen for your nourishment.” There was no nonsense in G’raha’s voice, definitely using his political persona with the Warrior: no may you, ifs, buts, or maybes.

He hadn’t changed from the G’raha of before. He was still in there, somewhere. It brought a slight smile to A’viloh’s face. He just matured enough to make himself known in ways that didn’t hide his true self.

_‘Just as you have.’_

‘....Yes, just as I have, Esteem.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you all enjoyed the 2nd part of this chapter! I know that I went back and forth with the feelings, but I really wanted to show that the heart and mind don't always have the wants and needs (pun intended).
> 
> I believe someone asked last chapter for the reason as to why G'raha was blind, and while it's not touched upon in this chapter, I believe my boy hypothesizes on this fact in the next chapter! I think ^^;;
> 
> Now, as for the author, I happen to find them when they updated their story with their good boy and I was shocked to see that I hadn't read their series until their latest chapter. Let me tell you, it was SUCH a joy to read all of the chapters and I may or many not have stayed up all night to read them all. The author is kokuou_ji and the work in question is “The Weight of Tomorrow”. They also have a twitter with the same name, please check out their works! I am a sucker for height differences and that is huge check in my book with their boy, Lyrit. Quite the eye candy <3
> 
> As for the artist, I couldn't decide on just one again, so I thought it would be best to speak of two! The first one is @kazunokabeff. Their words of the Exarch are absolutely incredible and I love how their style looks so official! It's amazing how they can draw so many serious works along with cute fun ones. The next artist is SHiROYAMI*in his garden (@Towane_18). Their works are ADORABLE, especially when it involves their cute WoL. So soft, tender, and they have some NSFW art, so proceed with caution :)
> 
> Thank you so much for making it to the end and for sticking around this long! It brings me much joy to see people enjoy something that I put so much time and effort into and to also feel the same things that I have. Thank you again for the wonderful comments and for all of the kudos! :)
> 
> Have a good one and please be well :)


	8. ...You to Do Things For Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It does, more than you know. It brings me much, much happiness. To be able to continue to assist in your wellbeing,” A’viloh explained, rubbing the crystal hand over his cheek now, “that brings me so much joy.”
> 
> ~o~o~
> 
> He was tired. For 100 years he fought. He understood what his Warrior wanted, for he wanted the same for them. For them, this would be a battle that he will let himself lose. He just wanted them to get better.
> 
> ~o~o~
> 
> _‘_ You _are right. When was the last time that you thought of your wants? Why let them get to where it is too late to have them?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! Sorry for how long it took to get this out, it took me longer than usual to edit this from needing to re-read it a few times. When I finished with this one, I re-read the next few ones and was pretty content with how they were, so hopefully they will come out sooner than the past two have ^^;;
> 
> I know it's been pretty crazy out there the past few months, so I hope that you all have been able to do things that will take your mind off those stressors. This chapter is a bit of a long one, so I hope that it can distract you from life, even if it's just for a little while :)
> 
> In the next chapter, it hints to some of the reason's why the Exarch has the symptoms that he's had since coming back into the Tower, but only briefly. I was wondering why I hadn't touched on it much until I re-read the next chapter and it finally made some sense, haha. Thank you for being patient, please continue to be for a little while longer!
> 
> Also, I totally spaced and forgot to say since the very beginning: I am in no way, shape, or form a medical professional and I am very sure that my writing shows that, so forgive me for any mistakes I have made when it comes to anything medical related! ^^;; Going further into that, excuse any mistakes that you see! I am sure that I have missed some as I am the only one that edits these works and I admit that my eyes gloss over certain things, ahaha ^^;;
> 
> And, thank you so, so much for all of your lovely comments and kudos. They really do make a difference, especially in these tough times, so thank you so much for them and for taking the time in doing so. No one is obligated to leave anything, so when something is, it brings my heart so much joy. And it is my hope that the chapters have brought out some good (and ah, sad) feelings when reading them :)
> 
> There will be some authors and artists at the end of the chapter that have gotten me through these stressful times and have given me many smiles, so please look out for that!
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy! :D

It took a bit of convincing on A’viloh’s part to get G’raha’s approval on the food (apparently, magicked food was not appropriate nourishment for a healing hero). It took even longer for him to eat his soup, his stomach constantly flipping around in revolt from having been neglected for so long. He thankfully had enough water with him, having overpacked from not having known what would await him once he and the Scions knew where to go to get G’raha back.

A’viloh refused to eat on the leader's bed, opting to bring the creaking desk chair instead. There was much to speak about, that was true, however, both did not know where to start. Because of that, there was much silence between them at the moment, with the exception of the occasional clinking of A'viloh's spoon. The Warrior idly thought that an Orchestrion player would benefit the ambience, and his ears perked up at remembering the invention he had in his bag.

G'raha's own ears perked up as well in hearing the rummaging and turned his head, the question clear on his face but staying silent. With a small "aha!", A'viloh brought up the small device that Cid had made for him a year ago during their time at the Scape. The machine was among the many things that the President of the Ironworks and his eccentric companion brought ("just in case") when venturing into the unknown made by Omega. After much tinkering and testing (more so to keep himself "occupied" and to get Nero _off his damn back_ ), Cid managed to create a portable Orchestrion player, gifting it to A'viloh when he showed much interest in the device. To say that it was one of the most important items that A'viloh kept with him at all times was an understatement. It definitely kept the thoughts at bay…

Placing the Orchestrion player on the desk, he flipped through the pieces that he installed on the device, thankful at having put soothing ones, letting it work its magic.

G'raha's ears swiveled at the sound, having sat more properly when the Warrior started eating but opting for a more casual position when his back started hurting. His head subconsciously tilted, body turning slightly while his tail thumped behind him in interest.

"Is that the Orchestrion player in your room, my friend?" He questioned curiously, leaning forward to catch the piece. The Warrior must have really liked the device to have stored it in his bag.

"Ahh, close, my scholar. Cid made this while we were exploring the Scape. It's a portable Orchestrion player, the only one made, as far as I know." A'viloh turned up the volume slightly, the natural sounds of the Twelveswood coming through.

"Fascinating…" G'raha responded, eyes wider in awe. "Portable… Then, you take the device everywhere you go?" ‘Did he… say “my”...?’

"Yes, though I only turn it on when it's safe, of course."

G'raha frowned at that. When was it ever for the Warrior? Among friends, certainly, but aside from that…

"...It is my hope that those times of safety happen more often than what I have read. You are a heavily sought out man."

A'viloh looked over at his companion, eyes landing on their crossed legs. He had given G'raha a few fire shards when he took some out to heat up his meal after they questioned his method, him fumbling with them here and there. He hoped that they warmed up his friend and further regulated their temperature, the room still as cold as those early mornings in Mor Dhona from the past. He refused to say anything about it, not wanting G'raha to exert himself on his behalf. The soup and shards did wonders but they crumbled after their use, him now as cold as before.

Putting his empty bowl aside, some of his bones cracked at the movement, wincing at the sharp pain coming from his side. Right, time to get back to business.

"That is one way of putting it. Those moments of safety, they come and they go. I am grateful that Cid gave this to me, this little treasure has helped me in many ways."

G'raha halted his fumbling, lifting his head. He had tried to use the energy from the shards to quicken the healing in his eyes, but there was only so much feeble shards could do. One had crumbled in an instant after taking out the energy too quickly, so he used the 2nd one to practice; Emet-Selch did more damage to him than he thought, but more than that, he overexerted himself from having stayed away from the Tower for too long.

Setting aside the shards, his ears turned forward. There was something in the way that the Warrior said those things that told G’raha to pay attention: call it a sixth sense that he had developed over the many years of being the Crystal Exarch and very rarely did he ever turn a blind eye to it. When he heard nothing more from the Warrior but the quiet rummaging, he decided to pick on the sentence that first came to mind.

“Though I am not he, I can safely assume that he wished that he could have given you more from all that you have done for him and the Ironworks. I read the reports the company wrote in regards to Alexander and Omega, which of course included your victories against them and your journey throughout both.” A’viloh glanced over, doing a double take when he noticed G’raha’s far-off expression. It was as if he were re-living the experience, a true smile on his lips.

“They were quite detailed, serving as another tie I could use when bringing you here. Though…. Though I will admit, they were a bit _too_ detailed at times from the reports focusing more on the technical side, a side that I am not too familiar with,” he explained sheepishly. “It was difficult in asking the right people certain terms without alluding to my intentions.”

“I can imagine. Though I am not them,” A’viloh teased, a sly smile appearing when G’raha’s ears went straight up at him mimicking his words, “I am sure that they did so in order to avoid Jessie’s wrath should their reports not have been detailed enough.” He brought the necessary materials to G’raha’s bed, putting them in the order of use.

“Ah yes, Mistress Jessie. A name that I would hear frequently from Cid whenever the conversation involved his company or towards more… less jovial topics,” G’raha admitted. Though the memories were faint, it was too frequent how Rammbroes would jab at Cid whenever the man shirked his duties of the day, almost always threatening the man using Jessie’s name. Unfortunately for the owner of the company, said threats always worked, much to everyone’s amusement.

“And her name was still used against him during both expeditions,” A’viloh chuckled at G’raha remembering. He got closer, inspecting on how he could go about treating him.

“You can stay sitting, I only ask that you bring the ends of the robe up so that I can begin treating your back.” G’raha’s eyes widened, quickly turning towards where he thought the Warrior was, his smile vanishing. Wait, what of HIS wounds?

“My back is fine at the moment, my friend” G’raha lied. The ache was back, but he’d be damned if the Warrior did not treat themselves first. “Please, see to your wounds.”

“My pain is under control at the moment. It would put my mind in great ease if I could tend to yours first.” A’viloh gently countered. No, his pain was quite apparent, but G’raha couldn’t see that and he was succeeding in keeping his voice steady. He was ready to use logic, along with gentle prodding to the heart, if it meant him winning this other battle. His friend mattered most at the moment.

It seemed that the leader had the same thoughts as the Warrior from how his eyes narrowed, posture straightening. A flame long forgotten suddenly ignited, sitting up straight. If that’s how this was going to be—

“I do not need my sight to know of your condition. I can smell your wounds, A’viloh: they are overdue in being tended to. It eases my mind to know that you are not in pain, as you have stated, but those wounds will not heal unless you give them the attention that they need,” G’raha retorded, making sure to emphasize the last part. The smell was not that unpleasant and he disliked to say such a negative comment, but if it meant that his Warrior would get better faster, then so be it. Though…

‘When was the last time that I sparred with someone using only words like these? Ah, yes, with Lyna. They are so much alike.’

He fought back the smile that wanted to come when he heard the deep sigh of the Warrior, relaxing his back when he knew that he won. He prepared his nose for the smell that would come the moment that the Warrior uncovered his wounds.

What he did not expect was the pleasant smell of lavender and vanilla under his nose.

Jerking back in surprise, he blinked several times when the scent followed him moments after, his hands being forced to grab the small plant.

“See my logic in this for a moment, G’raha. The only open wound that you have is the one on your back. I am positive that the other wounds around your body have closed from using medicine that would ensure such a process on the day that I first started treating you. I only need to take off the bandages and clean up the various salves that I used, but that can come at a later time.”

G’raha was incredibly intelligent, A’viloh knew full well. But what G’raha didn’t realize about himself would be the Warrior’s trump card: the leader was far too open with his expressions. A’viloh studied him very closely as he ate, noting how the miqo’te would change positions on his upper area, wincing whenever he leaned back too quickly or too far. He also noted how he would loosen the robe around his upper torso. It seemed that they suffered from a headache from how his thumb would rub at his forehead or his hand would massage the back of his neck.

“You are far more injured than I, please see reas--” G’raha urged, grasping the plant as he leaned forward. The hand that gave it to him went away quickly after, his ears swiveling forward to hear where his Warrior went.

“I do, my friend. I do. But… please remember that I have Mother Hydaelyn’s blessing. My wounds look severe, but I can assure you, I can still keep going. And while I understand that you are in the Tower, I also know that you are not fully well, and thus still weak.” More points against him, almost ther--

“Despite having Hydaelyn’s blessing, you are still human, A’viloh. Even you have a limit.” A’viloh’s eyes widened when G’raha began to curl up, clutching the sprig of lavender.

“I know that I am weak. That is why… why I connected myself to the Tower. To have the strength to see this future through. To receive the strength that can begin to come close to yours. You have the strength of a dozen soldiers--no, two dozen soldiers, A’viloh. You are strong. So very strong.” He didn’t want to argue anymore. He wanted his Warrior to get better. He wanted his Warrior to heal. But maybe this is a battle that he would have to lose if it meant that could happen.

A’viloh watched as G’raha’s flesh arm reached out, fingers twitching as he waved it around, almost as if trying to find something. A’viloh scooted closer, G’raha placing his hand on the Warrior’s lap. He kept himself curled up as A’viloh’s expression twisted in worry, knowing that he had gone too far.

“I gave you my word on the sands of Kholusia that you could treat my wounds. I would never take those words back. You have gone above and beyond in taking care of me, my dearest friend.” He brought his hand up from the Warrior’s lap and his fingers slowly poked around until he found A’viloh’s forearm, still a bit far, and had more confidence as he brought his hand down to grasp at his hand.

“You are stubborn, my dear friend. I concede. I only ask this: once my sight has returned, you _will_ let me assist you in treating your wounds. I am no healer, but a second pair of hands might help. You are… ” Damn this frail heart of his. Could he really not say such words without crying?

“...You are just as important to me. As I stated before, I could only read about your adventures under the walls of this Tower. They would be the only items that connected me to you and make the ties stronger in bringing you here. You were my strength back then, as you are my strength now.” Despite the tears that threatened to come down, it seemed that he was strong enough to halt them, biting his lip to keep his breathing under control as he bowed his head.

He was tired. For 100 years he fought. He understood what his Warrior wanted, for he wanted the same for them. For them, this would be a battle that he will let himself lose. He just wanted them to get better.

“I have… I have done so much against you, my inspiration. If there is anything I can do to mend you, I will. I will do everything that I can to heal you. These hands do not deserve to touch you, but they are all I have. My skills will never compare to yours, but I still have eyes that can follow what you do and ears that will listen to your instructions. Before I temporarily lost my sight, I saw how red your bandages were. Today, you will tend to your wounds. Tomorrow, I will help,” he continued. His Warrior needed to get better. He needed to stop bleeding and rest. Just a few more hours and he will be able to control the Tower better and guide him throughout it without needing his sight, or so he desperately hoped. Just a little more.

A’viloh was at a loss for words. He had gone too far. This was not the time to fight, or to be stubborn. This was the time to heal, to mend. To get closer.

To begin anew.

“I believe… that we are of the same mind, my dearest scholar. I too will concede. Today, I will treat my wounds. Tomorrow, you will assist. And so I ask: if I let you, will you let me heal you today?” G’raha opened his eyes, rapidly blinking away the wetness that wanted to come down when he barely heard his Warrior’s voice. 

‘My dearest scholar… Wait… does that mean that he still trusts me? After all that I have said and done to him?’

“Of… Of course. My willingness in this is the least I can do. You have already started on my back, I have full trust in you in completing it,” G’raha answered, not able to keep his confusion away from his voice as another thought crept into his mind. His Warrior saw all of him. So he saw all of his crystallization—

His thoughts were abruptly cut off when hoth of his hands were pulled forward, feeling something soft over them. It wasn’t until he felt air around them that he realized that his Warrior was rubbing his hands around their face.

“Thank you.” A’viloh whispered. So faint, but so full of… promise. Warmth. Gratefulness. “I’m sorry, my friend. This must be so strange to you. I will admit, I... “ he let out a breathy chuckle. He kept G’raha’s stiff hands on his cheeks, putting his hands over them to keep them there. “This… feels right. I know that I am not easy to deal with. It is a habit, putting people’s needs above mine own. So, thank you. Thank you for trusting me. I will see to it that you will get better, I promise. I will not let your trust go in vain. I too will trust you with my wounds,” A’viloh said with a soft smile. He will make this better. He will make _him_ better.

His hands never left G’raha’s, nor did he let go. The leader was still incredibly stiff, even more so when he _knew_ what he was touching.

“Nay, my friend… it is I that should thank you for your trust. And… I must say, you are very easy to deal with.” It was THIS situation that he did not know how to deal with. He was touching his Warrior’s face, and his Warrior was making it so. Would it be rude to pull his hands away? Yes, it would, however… He wanted to continue, even if he didn’t start it. Were they happy? Is that why this felt right?

“However, I must ask… Does... that bring you joy…? Letting you see to my wounds? I see no reason to deny your healing, and most find relief rather than happiness,” G’raha questioned, feeling a bit too warm. He was getting flushed; how could he not when he felt his Warrior’s lips over his knuckles. What was their expression? Did they have a smile? Didn’t their face hurt from how much they were rubbing his hands over it? Since when were they so touchy...?

“It does, more than you know. It brings me much, much happiness. To be able to continue to assist in your wellbeing,” A’viloh explained, rubbing the crystal hand over his cheek now, “that brings me so much joy.”

G’raha was speechless, gaping at how easily the Warrior admitted to such a thing. He had changed quite a bit since they were last like this; never did he imagine for such words to come from such a person. Before, he would keep the scholar at a distance, careful with his words and kept his expressions and emotions at a minimum. Now, they were more… open. Freer. Happier.

‘Was there something in that soup?’ G’raha thought, becoming redder by the second.

A’viloh noticed, his grip loosening and gently placed G’raha’s hands on his lap, giving them a few gentle pats.

“But enough of that, let’s get that robe up. You can keep it on you, I only need to uncover your back,” A’viloh explained,, starting to push G’raha’s arms into the robe. The leader silently complied, swallowing audibly when he felt the strong fingers of the Warrior under his legs from bringing the robe to his lap. He started to fumble with the front until A’viloh slowly turned cloth, mindful of not letting it rub across the leader’s back.

His fingers skillfully unbuttoned the item, warm eyes hardening the moment he saw the wound. His breath stilled, mind immediately assessing the situation like a chirurgeon. 

The wound was barely healing, A’viloh only being able to tell from the tiny crystals that were starting to form around the deepest part of the bullet hole. The rest of his damaged crystal back had a pale, neutral color while the outer part, closest to his shoulders and lower back from having more aether run through it, started its natural blue tinge. The deepest part of the wound had a red tinge mixed in with the pale crystal, no doubt it being blood.

“How does it look…?” G’raha questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. He had been very still while A’viloh examined him, breathing very slowly. He was grateful for the robe around his shoulders, now noticing how cold the room was and tried to keep his shivering to a minimum.

“...The wound is healing, but very slowly. The hole is barely closing,” A’viloh murmured the last part, mostly to himself.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, what is your pain?”

“If I do not move, 3-4. With movement, 6-7.” A’viloh nodded, looking down at his materials. That will not be enough, though he should have more in his bag…

“Let me read to you what medicine I made and what I had to substitute for certain ingredients. I apologize in advance for my pronunciation. Oh, and there was also that red text at the bottom of that one page...”

“Pronunciation? Red text?” G’raha blinked, ears turning back.

“The book that I used was of Allagan origin. I did not try normal medicinal measures because of your case being a bit different. My memory is a bit fuzzy when it comes to the Allagan language, so I had to use a book that taught the Allagan alphabet. It was also thankfully a dictionary, so I didn’t have to shift through three books,” A’viloh informed sheepishly. The more that he explained the situation, the more nervous he got. He must have sounded like an idiot to G’raha. Here he was, the leader of the Crystarium, who was also fluent in the Allagan language, ate, slept, and _breathed_ anything that had to do with that civilization, being treated medically by someone who had little knowledge on the subject. He was such an _idiot_ \--

“You… did all of that…?” A’viloh’s ears perked, attention now focused on the person in front of him. His eyes filled with concern when he saw G’raha closing himself in again, ears pressed to his head as his tail curled up tightly beside him. ‘The pain must have flared up.’

‘Anesthesia, where’s the anesthesia… Wait, would the needle penetrate?’

“Of course I did. As I have stated before, this is the least that I can do for you, G’raha. You have done much for me. I said that I would treat you, and treat you I shall. If it means that I need to administer medicine that I have no knowledge on but will benefit you, I will,” he quickly responded, already on his feet. Before he could take a step, his left arm was grabbed and pulled back, making him stumble, though he thankfully balanced himself before he toppled over his friend. Looking down on him, his eyes widened when he saw his arm being hugged like a lifeline. G’raha laid his forehead on A'viloh's cold arm, rubbing his forehead on the Warrior’s forearm.

"You are… far too kind," was all G'raha could say. He was grateful that the shards gave him enough energy to be able to see the silhouette of his Warrior as they stood and bring them back. Or was that the Tower that gave him the strength? No matter, he was grateful for either one.

His Warrior, they had changed so much. That they let themselves be grabbed like this, be pulled and be hugged. It soothed his heart and mind just as much as seeing the night sky all of those past several moons.

'This is acceptable? He won't push me away…?' G'raha thought, hugging A'viloh's arm tighter. The Warrior was more open, it seemed. So this should be fine. It should be fine.

Never did he expect for someone to go through such lengths for him. It just didn't register in his mind. Yes, the people in the Spagyrics would make sure that he took that disgu-- _strong_ tonic when they saw his movements more sluggish. That's why he preferred the natural route with that plant in Lakeland, always profusely thanking the botanists that would harvest and bring the plant to the gatekeeper. That was the most he would allow his people to do for him, the feeling of being a burden too great. And here was the Warrior, forsaking their own health for the benefit of his own. How far they went with their care, how gentle and nurturing they were with their movements. They always thought one step ahead when they administered any type of treatment, made sure that he was comfortable, gave him clothing, and the list went on and on.

He was far, far too kind.

A’viloh was silent as G’raha kept hugging his arm. He had heard that statement time and time again throughout his many journeys. He didn’t think of his actions as kind when it came to strangers: they were duties that people expected him to do. It was a conversation (argument, really) that he would have with himself (Esteem) frequently. When it came to his friends and family, however, he made sure to go above and beyond. But when it involved those very few special people--

Well, one was gone, permanently. The other one was doing well, but he did not know when he would ever see them again--that he knew that they were alive was something that he thanked the Twelve each day. The last one had left on their own terms.

But they were back again. The moments they had while G’raha was just the Crystal Exarch, they made him realize many things. Memories that he had forgotten resurfaced, he could go back to his earlier journals and re-read them, and he thought deeply on their interactions, even if they were brief at times.

He started to think in a more logical way, analyzing the situation. And it was… strange. Strange and careful. It was a dance that at times was as delicate as the flowers that the manager of the Pendants would put in his room every so often, and at other times, raw as the crystals that formed the Crystal Tower. But almost always, there was a fragile boundary that both wanted to desperately cross over.

Yet they never had the courage to do it.

A’viloh had his suspicions but he dared not hope, not after all the loss that he experienced when the situations were conveniently better. Every time there were hints of peace, tragedy would strike right after. When he had the courage to open himself to the Fortemps knight years ago, they were killed in front of his eyes--and his eyes were the last thing the knight saw.

He did not give A’viloh permission to treat him.

When he finally had the courage to live and be with the scholar, they had closed those ominous doors behind him--his eyes were the last thing that the former Student of Baldesion saw too.

On the top of Mt. Gulg when his suspicions were validated, A’viloh’s eyes were also the last thing that G’raha had seen before he took a bullet to the back.

_‘That’s stopping you? After all that you did to survive, you’re going to let this moment go? What, do you think you’re cursed enough to where you can never have someone that important with you ever again?_ ’

‘He’s not just some person I can do whatever I want to. It’s like you said, he’s important. He deserves more than this. He deserves more than me--’

_‘YOU deserve more than that._ You _deserve him,’_ Esteem shouted back. They were at their wits end, A’viloh could feel it. They were done with this stupid dance.

_’What does HE want!? Have you asked him that!?’_

‘...’

_‘No, you haven’t!’_ Esteem hissed. _‘Because you’re a goddamn coward, and needs to take charge. You’re scared. You’re scared of what he will do. You’re scared that he will push you away.’_

‘Can you blame me?! _I_ did that to him! And after he left, every person I have ever given my all to, they all left--’

_‘Don’t give me that shit. Everyone leaves. That’s the cycle of life, A’viloh!’_ Esteem roared. A’viloh’s lost his sight momentarily, red appearing around his vision. Esteem noticed, backing off instantly; he was dangerously coming up and who knows what would happen to G’raha should the darkside touch him.

It took several minutes for Esteem to calm down, them matching A’viloh’s rhythmic breathing. 1, 2, 3… 

Finally: _‘You’re going to_ let him go again _?’_ Esteem whispered. A plea. Don’t let him go--

_‘You said you wouldn’t let them go. You got on your knees and pleaded for him to not leave you.’_

‘...’

_‘...Don’t you dare make the same mistakes I did.’_ Louder. More urgent.

You’re not alone. I’m here.

_‘Don’t you dare back away from this just_ because you’re scared.’ A hand behind his back, pushing him forward.

It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared too.

**‘Don’t you dare let me take control to do the actions I was too much of a coward to make.’**

**I’ll give you strength. So let’s do this. Together.**

That did it. Esteem was right. He needed to take charge, before this moment passed. Before he was left again.

_‘_ You _are right. When was the last time that you thought of your wants? Why let them get to where it is too late to have them?’_

A’viloh centered himself, hearing the hum of the Tower again, and continued to breathe. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but it couldn’t have been much from G’raha not having let go or had tried to get his attention. He slowly opened his eyes, having closed them to concentrate on bringing Esteem back and focused on G’raha’s faded hair. His hair wasn’t as groomed, many odds and ends sticking out, his ears also needing to be brushed. His eyes trailed down, managing to catch a glimpse of the faded tail; it was fluffed out, that part needing to be groomed most of all. Were those knots at the end? How painful…

Shaking his head, he looked up at the ceiling, instantly regretting it. It was still too bright.

What were they even talking about? Oh yes, A’viloh being too kind. He smiled lightly, letting out a quick exhale through his nose in amusement.

“If I am too kind, then you are a saint.” He placed his hand on G’raha’s head, barely patting it. That headache of his should still be there, he needed to be careful not to make it worse.

G’raha’s shoulders hunched up, squeezing A’viloh’s arm briefly. “Nonsense. My actions will never compare to yours,” he whispered at the end.

“In your eyes, perhaps. But in mine, you have done more than you give yourself credit for.” Cold fingers brushed against G’raha’s ears, giving them a few light rubs. This was incredibly intimate, as if putting G’raha’s hands on his face wasn’t, but this… This was another level. And A’viloh was ready to cross that bridge.

‘Let’s get him a bit more relaxed...’ A’viloh thought. It partially worked, G’raha’s shoulders coming down but still gripping A’viloh’s arm. It wasn’t painful, but his arm started to get tingle.

“And I can safely say that you have accomplished enough for people to see you in the same light as I. It is not a competition, of course.” Seeing that he didn’t mind the ear rubs, A’viloh continued, slowly sitting next to G’raha. Noting the shift in the arm, G’raha came to his senses and immediately let go of it, almost in horror at realizing what he had done. He began to scoot away, starting to apologize but A’viloh cut him off by wrapping an arm around his waist and bringing him close to his side. G’raha stiffened too much this time, not having expected such an action, and regretted it immediately, as if him hissing out a breath wasn’t enough of an indication.

A’viloh was grateful at still having his Scholar soul stone on him, his hand hovering over the bullet wound as he let gentle healing magic soothe the pain. His other hand reached over to gently grasp G’raha’s shoulder and coax him to put some weight on him. He let his hand stay long enough for G’raha to get the message that he _wanted_ him there, that it was okay to stay there. The leader was still quite stiff from the position, eyes blown wide and mouth agape. He tried to speak but only short sounds came out. Not wanting to continue to embarrass himself, his mouth clamped shut, and just stayed there. Letting A’viloh do his thing, he instead concentrated on his breathing.

As he continued, his mind wandered. He could still smell the dried blood on A’viloh, along with a mix of puss, but it wasn’t that unpleasant, just worrisome. The lavender that A’viloh had given him was still in his hand, now unfortunately crushed from how hard he had clamped his fist, but when he opened it, the scent wafted up, calming his nerves. He hoped that it did the same for his Warrior. He had asked a few weeks after they met all of those years ago in Mor Dhona what the lavender was for, but the Warrior was quite cryptic in his answer, giving a nonchalant response: that he liked the scent, if the leader remembered correctly. It struck G’raha as odd back then for numerous reasons, but when he saw that he wouldn’t get more than that, he dropped the subject.

It wasn’t until many years later when he had brought the first Scion over that that memory came back and the real answer was easier to understand. It was a relaxing scent. More than that, it calmed nerves and brought the mind to a better place. It could also be used on fabrics before bed, or during the day. He noted that the Warrior would at times put some vanilla on said lavender sprigs back then, the scent coming up more before and after major breakthroughs with the Crystal Tower. The shame he felt at the realization brought much pain to his heart, where he vowed that the journey to defeat the Lightwardens and absorbing their Light would be the only tasks he would ever ask of the Warrior. How foolish, as if those tasks were simple and easy. He knew of how much he was asking of his Warrior, but it would only be temporary. His plan reassured that.

Thus, instead of taking, much like how the people in the books he read of his Warrior did, he would give. He would give as much to the Warrior as he could with the power that he had. He gave the Warrior one of the best rooms in the Pendants, going as far as hand-picking the furniture in said room. He instructed the manager to always keep the room full with food and immaculate with the cleaning. He knew that the Warrior was careful with where he stayed, remembering from their time spent in a tent for close to a year. He knew that the people of Mord Suuq would be invaluable to the Warrior, knew how to entice them, and gave the coin early in their journey. He knew that Feo Ul would play a vital role in Il Mheg, making sure to send them to those strange lands as soon as the opportunity arose. The people of Amh Araeng and Rak’tika Greatwood would benefit from the Warrior’s aid and so he could only watch with worry when they succeeded.

He gave, and he gave, and he gave… And he would always push the thought of receiving. He had received enough from the Warrior in the past, and they would absorb the Light the Wardens had and start to perish. So he would take. That was the plan.

But of course, the Warrior created a new one. They always seemed to make the impossible possible.

Now here they were, side by side, two pitiful fools needing healing and rest. He was being healed by the Warrior, _his inspiration_ \--

The Warrior lessened the healing, no longer able to feel the waves of pain overtake G’raha’s back. They were thankfully more comfortable, putting their weight on the Warrior while they idly stroked their crushed lavender. A’viloh wanted to ask what was deep in their mind from them not having responded to what he said earlier but knew what had to be done. Eyeing the books beside his friend, he quietly interrupted their thoughts.

“Let me read to you what I followed for your healing, and tell me if it would work on you. I’ll also tell you the ingredients I used as substitutes.”

G’raha blinked owlishly as A’viloh reached around him to pick up the two books that he brought over. He laid the lighter one on G’raha’s lap while keeping the heavier one in his hands, skimming over to make sure that he had turned to the right page. G’raha’s hands instinctively grabbed the edges, thumbs lightly going over the yellowed pages. His position changed, A’viloh staring as G’raha crossed his legs once more, his tail coming to the front and curling comfortably. A soft smile came to A’viloh’s lips, looking down at his book.

“You look comfortable,” he stated simply. G’raha’s ears turned a couple of times, looking away with a flush as he started to uncross his legs.

“My apologies, tis… tis habit.” A’viloh laid a hand on one of G’raha’s ankles to halt him, pushing them slightly back to how they were.

“It is not a wrong habit, as such, you have nothing to apologize for. However you sit, it will not hinder my actions. I prefer you to be comfortable rather than stiff. Now, don’t laugh at how badly I butcher these words.” ‘Of course it's a habit. Books were all that he had for so long.’

Retracting his hand, he cleared his throat and began to read.

=====

It took a bit longer than he liked to get through the page. G’raha never laughed, instead assisting with some words that were harder to say once he thought he knew the sentence. It was then that A’viloh understood the red lettering that was so small at the bottom of the page. It was a warning, which he feared, but not the type that he expected.

The maker of the medicine warned that, along with the ingredients “tampering with the natural essence that flowed in anyone and anything (aether)”, it would also “tamper with the user’s mind”. However, G’raha quickly reassured that while that was the literal translation of the text, it would be best to assume that the Allagan’s meant it more so with one’s emotions. The Warrior was greatly curious with that, starting to ask the leader questions but said person instead pushed for the right salve’s making, quickly finding the right one after A’viloh read the front and back pages of the grand book.

Afterwards, the actual healing process went far smoother. Both put their heads together in what other ingredients they could use with what they had, both agreeing in not calling Lyna over for more.

G’raha felt more relief after the salve was on his wound, stinging at first until his aether started working with it. A’viloh watched as a faint glow grew from the deepest part and slowly spread to the outer edges. Judging from G’raha’s sigh of relief, they hit the mark, a great weight coming off of A’viloh’s shoulders. He gave pills for G’raha’s headache after, the leader grateful for the medicine and finishing A’viloh’s canteen (that he had to lie saying that he had others).

“The wound itself will take a bit longer to heal, but I do think that the salve will be enough,” G’raha said with a smile. A’viloh hummed, in the process of taking off G’raha bandages. The various cuts had healed nicely, barely any scarring left behind; the ones that did, A’viloh could make an easy salve for. The bruises, however, were still there. He did not lift G’raha’s pants to see where they started, his mood turned sour when he tried to push back the dark thoughts of how his friend acquired them.

G’raha shifted, swaying a bit to stretch his back. “I do think that it’s time for your wounds to be looked at, my friend. While I do not have sight, if there is any way that I can be of help, I would be more than willing to give it.”

A’viloh looked behind him and smiled, having finished cleaning up. There were still plenty of ingredients for him to use, with the stronger ones barely being touched, thankfully.

“I appreciate it, G’raha. Mayhap you can assist in holding a pair of bandages.” G’raha visibly perked up, ears straight.

‘I can help?’

“C-Certainly! Simply put my hands where I should hold.” A’viloh laughed, wiping his hands on his pants, seeing the leader ready to jump to his feet on command.

“Soon, soon. I will clean them in the bathroom first and then come back. I trust that you will be alright on your own for a little bit?”

G’raha blinked, tiling his head at the question. Where was he going? Everything was here, he remembered. “Of course, my friend. Take all the time that you need. Although...” he leaned forward, sniffing, “...you are doing more than cleaning, yes?”

A’viloh stilled, looking down at his right side. Oh dear, that did look pretty nasty… ‘Oh gods, I hope the bed didn’t suffer. I will change those sheets as soon as I am done.’

“...Cleaning the wounds and putting some much needed salve, from the looks of it. I’ll make it in the bathroom, the product will be pretty strong.” With how G’raha could smell the puss from his covered wounds (or maybe A’viloh got used to the smell?), he didn’t want the leader to get nauseated from all of the different smells.

G’raha’s brows furrowed. “Is that so… ” He looked down, the world still very much dark. How he wished he could see the Warrior’s expression. He had no idea what the Warrior was thinking, puzzled by his sentence.

“...You will… have to take many items to make your solutions…?” he tried, seeing if he could find the answer. A’viloh looked over, half-way through preparing his box.

“Some, but that’s fine.” Seeing his friend’s confused expression, he smiled as he explained. “Your nose is fairly sensitive and I am not sure how you will react to so many scents. I have the means to make the salve elsewhere.”

That did not seem to sit well with the leader judging from his frown. His ears went back, hands squeezing into fists. So that’s why…

A’viloh blinked, the box comfortable in his hands. It weighed a bit more than he liked from all that he had to take with him, but he could manage. That was fine. What wasn’t fine was how quiet his friend got. He could physically see how the leader was starting to shut himself in: ears back, facing away, hands clenched. He took a few steps forward, the items in the box clinking softly. Did he say something wrong…? He was doing it for the leader’s benefit, so then why was he upset?

“Would you… like for me to stay?” He questioned, tilting his head.

“...I... ” Did he? G’raha had no idea if he wanted to or not. No, he did. He always did. Why _was_ he so upset? He should have felt… happy? Touched? But he instead felt… wrong. Cold. Conflicted.

...Ah, the “tampering of the mind”. In other words, mood swings. He surmised the medicine was the reason for not being able to keep his tears in, as well as having a truly strange thought process. That must also be why he was so clingy. This was all so unlike him. That salve his Warrior used earlier in the week was the culprit. It must be.

A’viloh waited, shifting his weight to his other foot. He knew better than to push and to instead let the leader take his time in speaking.

“...I would like for you to do things that would benefit you. It is not a matter of you staying or leaving.” 

_I want for you to think about yourself. I want you to do things_ for _yourself. Stop thinking of other people over yourself._

“This will benefit me,” A’viloh spoke slowly. So G’raha _didn’t_ want him to stay?

G’raha closed his eyes, past experience letting him find patience within himself. He needed it more than ever while that past medicine was still in his system. “I can hear those items in your hands. They sound heavy. It makes no sense for you to take so much out of the room when you can make what you need here.”

“But… I don’t want you to feel sick… ” A’viloh said quietly.

“Why would I get sick, A’viloh?” The Warrior flinched at the sharpness in his tone, shuffling nervously.

“...You were the one who noticed that my wounds were secreting other bodily fluids. I can only imagine how foul the smell will be once I uncover them.”

G’raha sighed deeply, loosening his fists. This was getting them nowhere.

“I can handle the smell. Please, set those things down and start treating yourself. The longer we speak, the longer your wounds will stay infected.” A’viloh’s shoulders drooped, his left one pulsing with pain.

“...Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure. Please tend to yourself, I will remain quiet to let you concentrate.”

“Oh… You don’t… have to. I can speak with you here and there.”

“As you wish,” was all G’raha said on the matter, folding his hands.

=====

It didn’t take long for G’raha’s frustration to dissipate, fizzling out as soon as he heard the boxed items on the floor. A’viloh quickly got to work and things got lighter after that, both miqo’te’s chatting about nonsensical things. Eos decided to come out mid-conversation, fluttering in front of G’raha and waving her hands in greeting. The leader of course did not notice, A’viloh laughing when she drooped and explained to her about G’raha’s condition, said person apologizing profusely from his rudeness. That was enough for her to forgive him, not that she needed an apology, and was instead more worried for him, settling comfortably on top of his head. She was not at all heavy, of course being made of only aether so she didn’t really have a weight _to_ her should she so wish it.

She swayed every so often as A’viloh cleaned himself, the smell indeed strong but the antiseptics and salves masked the smell quickly after. He did his best to keep his hissing at a minimum (alcohol and acids shouldn’t hurt that much anymore, right?) but it was near impossible from how deep A’viloh had to go. There were parts of his side that he had to leave alone, not having the heart to ask for G’raha’s help, and he knew that there was only so much Eos could do. He went as deep as he could on his shoulder wound but the pain was too great, the anesthesia helping only slightly. Tiredness was also clouding his mind, making him press too hard on certain parts of his wounds; it woke him up but by the gods, _the pain_.

In the parts that G’raha _could_ help in, A’viloh was grateful for. The wounds no longer had air going into them and the salve was working wonders in soothing his pain. For now.

“That smells better. How do you feel?” G’raha questioned, A’viloh preparing for tomorrow’s cleaning.

“I’ve felt better, but I know that this pain is temporary.” A’viloh made the mistake of shrugging, pressing a hand down on his left shoulder. Way to go, stupid Warrior.

“Surely there is some type of medicine that you can take?” G’raha questioned with worry. He heard full well the hisses that A’viloh tried to mask, him and Eos leaning forward every so often but their questions would stop at their lips.

“It would be best that I do not. I just need some rest. I do believe that we both need it.” A’viloh brought a hand to his mouth, stifling a yawn. Yes, a bed sounds lovely right about now. Although…

“Most definitely. The more we rest, the better.” G’raha agreed, his back desperately wanting a place to lay on. However…

‘…there is only one bed in the room,’ both thought.

The silence was torturous, both waiting for the other to say something. When the silence continued, A’viloh cleared his throat.

“...I am to assume that this bed, other than the one located in the room on the other side of the Ocular, are the only two beds in the Tower, correct?”

“There are more, but they are farther from our location.”

“...Ah.”

A’viloh took a deep breath, smiling through the nerves. They have slept together before. This should be fine.

It should be fine.

“If you do not mind me sleeping on your bed, then I shall do so.” He moved to the bed but did not sit on it, standing next to the edge. He wanted to get G’raha’s consent after all.

“Th-There is plenty of space for us both, you can sleep on it as much as you need,” G’raha sputtered. “And of course I do not mind. We shared a tent before.”

“Yes, but not a bed,” A’viloh said with a wry smile. “Thank you.”

“I… yes, that is true… Please, do not thank me.” His mouth opened and closed a few more times in an attempt to say more but words failed him. A'viloh smiled more, slowly sitting on the bed and then crawled to where he laid the night (day?) before. G'raha was still cross-legged on the bed, facing away from him, but he heard the shuffle, ears turning back and tail coming forward more.

A'viloh scooted farther away from the miqo'te, leaving a little more than a body between them and went about arranging the sheets.

"You can control the lights in the Tower, yes? I hypothesize that your sight will come in a few hours, so it would be best to have the room dim or dark for your eyes to adjust," A'viloh began, needing to come close to G'raha to bring his portion of the sheets close to him. His friend didn't jump when he felt the fabric on him, nodding in thanks as he grabbed it with his flesh hand. The crystal one came slightly up, and with a flick of the wrist, the room was darker than when A'viloh first came in.

It was unnerving. A'viloh couldn't see his own hand in front of him, it was _just that dark_. 'This must be how he sees the world at the moment… How… How dreadful…' His tail curled up at his side, ears pinned to his head. It was too dark. He regretted his earlier words, contemplating whether or not to bring out his moon.

‘But what if it’s still too bright for him…?’

“How does that feel, my friend? Too dark?” A’viloh jumped, accidentally biting his inner cheek.

“N-No, it’s quite alright!” He answered quickly, rubbing his cheek in comfort. ‘It’s not bleeding, thank the gods. But that’s one more injury I have to worry about.’

G’raha sighed in relief, not noticing A’viloh’s discomfort, much to the Warrior’s relief. “Full glad am I for that. I am slowly starting to get more control over the Tower, but I admit that it is not by much.”

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t know that you could even control it like this. Please don’t tax yourself over my account.” ‘Stay quiet about the dark and the cold, stay quiet...’

“...I have never made mention of it; it is to be expected that you did not know,” came G’raha’s quiet response. ‘Of course he wouldn’t. He does not know the extent I went through to fuse with this prison.’

A’viloh almost missed it, were it not for the Tower’s hum now missing. It was eerily quiet, him having turned off his orchestrion player long before. “...Right.” How else could he respond to that?

More silence followed, the tension now there. G’raha was the first to move, settling down on his side, back facing A’viloh. He curled up a bit, knowing full well his mistake. He had no idea how to bring up such a fact. Did he even need to? The Warrior had the Echo--

\--the Warrior had the Echo.

….They had the Echo. With a strong enough catalyst, they could see anything in the past.

Had they seen things? How much did they see? How much did they know?

He hid his face in his right hand, taking in a shuddered breath. Squeezing his eyes shut, nails dug into his trousers as his tired mind swirled with the endless memories the Warrior could have seen from him to the point of where his headache came back. What a mess…

A’viloh looked in G’raha’s general direction, hearing nothing more from him and could only assume that the conversation was over. It was so quiet.

He tried to settle down as quietly as he could, wishing more than ever to be able to curl up on his side. What did he say wrong…?

Sighing quietly, he plopped his arm on top of his eyes, trying to get his mind to quiet down.

Bad mistake. Because of how quiet it was, he could hear his heartbeat and nothing more. He couldn’t hear G’raha’s breathing, though he knew everything was fine from being able to feel his aether. Was he actually breathing? Did he even have to…?

‘....This is maddening.’ He could sense Eos wanting to come out from his frustration, wanting to soothe him, but he gently pushed her back. She got the hint after the 3rd push, though he knew he had to do _something_ before she forced her way out. She had always been very intuitive with him and the people around him, most likely from being able to feel the close relationship he had with certain people and was always making sure that things were fine. He understood why Surito Carito called her his sun--she was just as warm and bright as one.

He wished that he could bring her out, but he knew that if he did, G’raha would know and question. His moon was out of the question as well, so what else could he bring out that wouldn’t move as much, use aether, and disturb his bed mate?

‘...A minion. But which one…?’

With his thoughts taking a lighter tone, he tapped his finger on the bed while he went through the different ones that he had befriended. After several minutes of contemplation, a wide smile came up, letting his friendly lesser panda come forth.

The little guy settled onto his chest almost immediately, curling up right over his heart, tail nestling comfortably under his chin. The rhythmic beating of the little panda’s heart synced with his, creating great comfort. Many people did not think of the precious things as companions, but to A’viloh, they were. They brought just as much peace as a sprig of lavender would, and gave him just as much companionship as people could.

Laying a hand on his panda’s fluffy body, he stroked the little one a few times, heart becoming lighter when he felt him turn and nuzzle his cheek, letting out a small yawn as he settled onto his right shoulder. Bringing the sheets over both, he kissed the top of the little one’s fuzzy head and finally fell into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh, thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope that some of the emotions in here weren't too overdone or redundant. It's definitely why it took me so long to get this one chapter out from needing to change some of that, haha. Also, I hope that some of you liked that little surprise at the end! The minions are so cute, I had to bring them in and some of them will make appearances in later chapters <3
> 
> After this, the story will start to move slightly quicker and the chapters will be just as long as this one, if not a tad longer. We are nearing the end, my friends, but worry not, I already have the next series planned out and even have a couple of chapters already done :) It it my hope that you stick around for the ride, I promise you that there will be more in the relationship that is starting to blossom from these two men :3
> 
> Now! The first author that I want to mention is Daff_O_Dil (Daze_E_Chain) with their two lovely multi-chapter fics, “How To Train Your G’raha Tia” and “A Bit Tipsy”. They are both so, so cute and it brings out the silliness from both G'raha and the WoL. The first one especially brings out scenarios that I am so happy to read about! This author does such a wonderful job in bringing to life those cute, sincere and loving moments. Please give them a chance, you will not be disappointed! :)
> 
> In regards to the artists, I think I'll stick with the notion of mentioning two from there being so many wonderful artists, more than I think I will ever be able to mention if I only do one a chapter <3;; The first one is Hana Bastien (@hana_bastien) on Twitter. They make such cute art of their Summoner WoL and the Crystal Exarch, it's enough to make anyone go "awww!" every time. It's very tender and cute!
> 
> The next artist is DPS (@4cUxqem) who is also on Twitter and poipiku as well! (https://poipiku.com/377288/). Their Hrothgar WoL and the art they make of the Exarch looks so realistic, I am amazed when I see it. And I believe they're one of the very few artists that feature a Hrothgar WoL too! Please look at their wonderful art, as well as Hana Bastien! You will not be disappointed :)
> 
> Again, thank you so, so much for making it this far and for giving this series a chance. As I stated earlier, it is my hope that it gave those of you who have read this far (or are just starting or even opened it to give it a chance!) a little respite from all of the craziness that is currently happening. Thank you again for all of the wonderful comments and kudos and for taking the time in doing so as well, you all are the best :)
> 
> Have a wonderful morning/day/night, stay safe, and be well! :)


	9. ...to Fix This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘My body, the Gods, and now the Tower. I need to fix this--I need to fix this fast.’
> 
> All day he had those thoughts. As he traversed through his Tower, his Warrior was in his mind. As he checked every nook and cranny that wouldn’t put him in danger, he imagined his Warrior there. When he would concentrate on something else, as soon as the task was finished, images of his Warrior came up. If it weren’t for the fact that this was normal for him, he would almost be embarrassed.
> 
> “How did you know,” he desperately wanted to say, but his lips only trembled. ‘How did you know that I wanted this for so long?’
> 
> _He_ needed to get fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter, and it's another long one! :)
> 
> This one better answers the reason for G'raha's ailments, or at least hints greatly to the answer. It could be considered a spoiler, so please be cautious :) Then again, I am sure that I have written about many spoilers in past chapters, so... no surprise there? ^^;;
> 
> I believe I stated this in the next chapter, but we are indeed reaching the end to this work, and I can safely say that there are two chapters left, not including this one. There is more in this one where both boys really start showing their wants, or at least, one does. The next coming chapters show more and more, which I know many, many of you have been waiting very patiently for. Thank you so much for your patience, and for reading this far. I can only hope that the results will be good enough for how long you all have waited ><;;
> 
> Following the format of past chapters, there will be an author and a couple of artists that I enjoy seeing/reading their creations at the end of this chapter, so please stick to the end to see them! They're all incredible, along with the past content creators that I have mentioned in the past :)
> 
> And without further ado, off to the new chapter! Please enjoy! :D

_Tick, tick, tok tic, tok tok, tick--_

‘That _infuriating_ clock again...’

Tick, tick tick, tick, tok--

He resisted in flinging a book at the damn machine, instead burying his face into his pillow. He brought the covers over his head with a grunt, puffing out a breath as he tried to get comfortable again. It was still so dark, the medicine must have not taken effect yet.

“Mrr?” He froze immediately, fisting his sheets as he instinctively pressed them to him more. There was a bit of shuffling, more of that strange noise coming up. The noise wasn’t human, the soft sounds entirely animalistic. The shuffling continued, the creature now trying to go under his sheets. He held fast to them, feeling something press to his crystal hand a few times. It felt slightly wet, the creature sniffing his hand a few times. How did they get into the Tower?!

A groan was heard after, his pillow starting to move. The creature immediately lost interest in him, moving away but a lighter weight settled on top of his head. Said weight kept moving side to side--a tail, most likely--as the noises became happier.

His pillow moved more, the creature content as he could only imagine it getting some pets. It settled down after, their tail only thumping once on his head and all was quiet again.

...His pillow moved. It was warm and smelled of medicine. There was a creature in the Tower. Conclusion?

He was laying on the Warrior of Darkness. Again.

...and they were so comfortable and--No. No, no, no. He needed to get off of them. How did he even get _on_ them? Did the Warrior bring him to them? No, he would have-- _should have_ \--woken up.

‘I will figure that out later. For now, let me just… move back… ’

Closing his eyes, he thought deeply on how he could move without rousing them. That creature was still on the Warrior’s chest, him able to hear their slow breathing. Carefully, he shuffled backwards, using his hips to better assist him. He paused several times when he felt the Warrior stir, but they would go back to sleep moments after. The creature also didn’t move, its tail slowly settling onto the Warrior’s chest. Because of him getting out from an angle, he felt the cold breeze the moment his foot left the sheets, needing to contain his shiver.

The floor was _freezing._ He wished that he had the Warrior’s long robe, the long trousers and mid-length sleeve cotton shirt definitely not enough. Despite not being able to see, he could feel the walls around him, the Tower guiding him to the door.

‘One of the many “perks” from being the keeper of it.’

Slowly, he got to his goal, quietly pushing it open. Faint light from the rotunda came in, him quickly shuffling out to not wake the Warrior. He sighed deeply once he heard the door click behind him, leaning against it.

His vision had thankfully returned: the other doors were within eyesight, the staircase that he would occasionally use was still there, and the foreboding elevator was locked. Yes, everything was how he left it.

As he brought himself up, his light patters echoed across the crystal walls, him flicking his wrist to bring in more light. The "hole" on the ceiling opened up, more light filtering through. Walking around the rotunda, he saw nothing amiss and leaned against the pillar in thought. His vision had returned, he could hear fine, and he was mobile. Then… all was well?

Ruby eyes brightened at his diagnosis, letting his ears wiggle once in delight. He let out a hum of approval and--

...Wait, did he hum?

His left ear flicked, trying again.

Nothing came out.

‘Oh… Oh no…’ He tried several more times, humming, speaking, whispering--and nothing. Instead, his throat became sore and filled with pain, his crystal hand trying to bring some cold to soothe it.

‘Movement, sight, and now voice… Are the gods conspiring against me…?’ He thought in sorrow, ears pinning down.

‘Perhaps they are, it is the least that I deserve.’ He knew basic conjury, but that was it. He had no idea how to fix his problem, and the only person that he trusted to do so was sleeping peacefully.

‘I will wait for him to wake up be the bearer of bad news… Gods…’ He thought, lightly rubbing his throat again. One part of him loathed to bother such an important man with such trivial matters, but another part of him--a much bigger part--reassured him that the Warrior wouldn’t mind. On the contrary, he _wanted_ to help. He said so himself many times in the days that they have shared. How would this be any different?

He shook his head, agreeing with that part of himself. He shifted his weight to his other leg, hugging himself from the frigid temperature. This was the temperature that he always left the Tower in, and it was the temperature that the Warrior was sleeping through. They must be freezing!

Walking towards the staircase, he concentrated on bringing in more warmth, aether surging outwards to the walls. But no matter how much he concentrated and pushed, the temperature stayed the same. He should have enough strength to do such a small task--so why isn't it working?

He sighed deeply, his throat protesting at the action as his thoughts went in the negative direction. This was all _wrong_.

‘My body, the Gods, and now the Tower. I need to fix this--I need to fix this fast.’

With determination in his eyes, he turned on his heel and set his sights to the elevator. Perhaps going above will show him the answer.

=====

It wasn’t a waste of time, but going to the upper part of the Tower did not give him the answers that he seeked. Everything that should have been there was how he left it before leaving for his destiny. However, the Tower’s essence was lacking the higher he went. He began to suspect that there was something happening below, something that he neglected to take care of--or more so, didn’t have the time nor manpower--and it was now affecting the Tower. Whatever was there must have been hindering his healing, if not causing his ailments. Or so was the theory.

Checking those parts took a good day from how meticulous he was, it now being the early hours of the next morning, though he did purposely stay on the roof that Xande’s throne stood for a few bells because of the sun. It felt wonderful, him taking in as many rays as he could while he daydreamed. He didn’t worry too much about the Warrior, feeling their soothing aether in his bed throughout his trip. He was connected to the Tower, after all, so he could sense all within and out if he so chose, though the action took some energy from him, so he would always refrain from doing so. Plus, it was an invasion of privacy.

The days that he spent sleeping, they had done wonders for him. He couldn’t remember the last time that he slept so much, and so comfortably. A part of him wished that he could go back under the covers and relish in the warmth that they gave, but he pushed that thought aside. Sleep wasn’t a necessity for him, not when he had such a large energy source at his disposal. Yet, it gave him things that no one else could. Or at least, that was the case in the past.

He could dream of the moments he wished he could have shared with the Warrior, along with the moments that they did share once upon a time. He was reminded of the days that had passed, him flinching from his deplorable actions. He had been cruel to the Warrior. Cruel, selfish, a hypocrite, and most of all, a terrible friend. He had said something that was deep in his heart, one that he didn’t regret, though he wished that he could have elaborated at that time. He needed to speak with the Warrior and set things right.

But how much could he say? How much could he let out from his heart? How much had the Warrior seen from his past? What did they think? What did they feel? So many questions, all of which gave him another headache.

For now, he had to take it slow. For now, he had to wait. Just like how he waited for 100 years.

‘Wait… I will always have to wait… But… ’ He stepped out of the elevator, looking at his bedroom door. He didn’t have to expend energy to feel the Warrior behind those doors. He could easily feel their warm, welcoming aether wafting back to him--beckoning him to come. They were within his grasp, he just needed to step forward, and open those doors--

‘...I will wait for you, my Warrior. My dearest friend and inspiration. I waited a century for you, I can wait for the bells to pass for your waking. Easily.’ He smiled warmly. He couldn’t see his expression, true, but he could feel the longing in his eyes. Just a few bells. Just a little longer, and then--and _then_ … 

Lips mouthed the words that he kept hidden in his heart. He could never say them to the Warrior of Darkness. He could never lay such a burden to them. So he would quietly say them every now and then when his strength waned.

The moment those words came out, the Tower awoke with life. Faded ears went straight up, clamping a hand over his mouth as his eyes widened in shock. Oh gods, he accidentally let himself go. Did he turn on all of the lights? Did he wake up the Warrior…!?

He nearly ran to the door as he peeked his head in. The room was still very much dark, the quiet breathing of the creature and the Warrior, mixed with the hum of the Tower, being the only sounds. Oh yes, and that _damnable clock._ He sighed quietly in relief, shutting the door slowly. He needed to be more careful.

‘Now, what to do… I cannot twiddle my thumbs as I wait for him to wake… ’ What a strange sensation. He had so much time at the moment and had no idea what to do with it. The books he had used for his massive plan were in the Umbilicus--

‘...The Warrior made me promise to not work.’ That was out of the question.

Oh! There were other books that he could read. As fortune would have it, the books that he would undoubtedly use for research were in his bedroom. The lighter material was in the library, and a few miscellaneous ones were in the lounging area.

‘Before I start, I do think a bath would do me well.’ Or at least a sponge bath. Looking over himself, he saw how well the Warrior had cleaned him up, the salve on his back working wonders. The various medicinal liquids that Warrior used were not as strong anymore, just a bit nauseating, as the Warrior said they would be. A sponge bath, then light reading.

=====

The activity wasn’t as taxing as he thought. He unfortunately couldn’t reach every place that he wished, but he could at least get rid of most of the smell. It was the aftercare that was tiring. It took him the majority of the morning untangling his hair, being as careful as he could to get rid of the knots. And his tail… his poor, poor tail; that was far more painful. He could only get the surface of his hair done, the deep knots still there. Light reading was out of the question, it seems.

‘I will have to make some type of conditioner-like substance. It has been too long since I last cared for it.’ And he berated himself for neglecting the appendage. That was one perk in having no voice: the most he could do was hiss from the pain. But in some masochistic way, he was grateful. He kept his tail hidden for many, many years, letting the fluffy limb come out occasionally when his back would hurt more than usual from overcompensating.

Slowly, he swept the mass of fur on the floor, putting it on the waste bin by the sink--

\--and saw how atrocious his ears looked. He blinked back at his reflection, his fingers lightly stroking the one that had his hair standing as high as a spooked Snurble.

‘.......’

He sighed, shoulders drooping as he picked up the comb again. This was one of the reasons why he hid himself behind his cowl, it becoming habit the longer he did so: he had no reason to worry about his appearance.

=====

“Mrr?”

His little panda had made a point in getting him up from their owner sleeping for far too long. It could also be that they were bored beyond reason and couldn’t find the way out, needing to wake them up to find the exit. It took A’viloh a bit of time to come to his senses, the bed very comfortable and the sheets so warm. His panda was relentless, nuzzling against his cheek and neck, licking his fingers, pulling down the sheets, and even putting their paw against his nose to stop his breathing. They were a determined panda indeed.

“’m up, ’m up,” he groaned, turning onto their side. He quickly went back to his back when he felt pain, cursing himself from forgetting his side wound. He blinked several times, rubbing away the morning residue from his eyes. His bed mate was long gone, Eos sensing their aether and telling him that they had left a while ago.

A’viloh frowned, sitting up but not being able to see anything.

‘How did he get out…? Can he see in the dark?’ He knew that G’raha was a Seeker, and it was somewhat true that Keepers were better at fully seeing in the dark. That was how his sister would always win in their games of hide-and-seek all of those years ago.

It was also how they would traverse the world without being spotted when they had escaped--

Eos came out, not needing to push back A’viloh and went into his line of sight. He jumped a good fulm, putting a hand against his racing heart. His little one jumped onto his lap, licking his cheek to calm him, letting out little sounds of concern. It seemed that both could sense his darkening thoughts, a faint smile coming up; they remembered well, poor things.

“I’m alright,” he reassured, petting his orange furred friend. He lifted his other hand, Eos settling comfortably in his palm as she hugged his thumb. He was incredibly fortunate to have such loving and caring friends.

Setting his faerie on his head, his panda went onto his right shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek as he brought out his Wind-up-Sun. He let his friend fully illuminate the room, now able to see. He scooted to the edge of the bed and turned around, frowning deeply at the mess. He was fully right in thinking that the residue of his wounds seeped into the covers under him and his bedmate. There were good size splotches of blood, puss and medicine from where him and G’raha had laid, more so on his side. The sheets that went over them were not as dirty, but he could fully smell the strong medicine on them.

His panda assisted him in bringing everything into tight balls, making a mental note to get them washed and dried quickly, even if it meant using Ifrit to assist with the drying process. Did the Tower have a laundry tub and washboard? He hoped so, or else he would have to sneak the sheets out--wait! He had both in his bag. Yes, yes, he did remember seeing them a day or so ago.

Putting the soiled sheets in an empty box and in his bag, he looked around, smiling when he found the medicine he set up the night before for his morning wound cleaning. He had no idea where G’raha was, but he refused to further infest his room. Also, he had neglected to journal all of what had happened since coming to the Tower. Too much had happened, but he would have to make time to notate it all.

He quickly found his journal in his bag, thankfully finding a half empty ink pot and quill, set it on top of his medicine box and left the room as his Sun disappeared behind him.

=====

He might not have known where his friend was, but he quickly found him as soon as he stepped into the bathroom. He almost dropped the box from surprise, his little panda letting out a squeak from how quickly A’viloh stopped, clinging tightly to his shoulder. G’raha was just as surprised, jumping a few fulms into the air and whipped around, his comb dropping into the sink with a clink.

“There you are!” A’viloh breathed, settling his panda comfortably on his shoulder again. The poor things heart was beating as fast as his, letting out a few low “mrr’s”. Eos had been just as surprised, having disappeared momentarily, though she was comfortably on top of his head again.

G’raha mouth was wide open, ears pinned up and forward, his tail curling around his leg in comfort. He quickly looked at all three of his visitors, shocked that he hadn’t felt the Warrior stir or leave his room. How long had he been trying to comb his ears?

A’viloh tilted his head, taking a few steps forward to assess the situation. His friend’s eyes were as clear as day, if albeit wide in shock. He seemed to be moving fine, there was enough color on his body and cheeks, and his aether felt steady. He smiled brightly--all should be well.

“How are you feeling, my friend?” He asked, setting the box down. G’raha blinked, slowly closing his mouth, his eyes still shifting at the new faces. That one was Eos, but what was the creature…?

Remembering his friend’s question, he opened his mouth and tried to answer, but to no avail. His ears wished to pin themselves down, but he didn’t let them, instead looking away as he put his hand to his throat. A’viloh saw the shift in his demeanor, mismatched brown eyes softening in worry as he came to stand in front of him.

“Is there something wrong with your throat?” He guessed, bending down to see the flesh and crystal. G’raha stiffened at the movement, slowly lifting his head up as he lightly nodded. A’viloh’s eyes darkened, looking into G’raha’s eyes.

“May I touch your neck?” G’raha’s eyes shifted, peeking up at the Warrior for a second before looking away. They were so intense, almost sending a shiver down his spine. He nodded, lifting his head higher. A’viloh’s eyes softened again, thanking him as he placed his hands on his shoulders. It took everything within G’raha to not shiver, subtly folding his hands behind his back. Now that he could see-- _really_ see--his mind went to so many places.

How tall his Warrior was, how brown his eyes were, how fit he was, how soft his hair looked despite it standing up in different directions from having woken up. Was it slightly longer? Were those locks soft? How strong were his hands, how much strength was within those fingertips, how close he was, how he could breathe his gentle aether in.

But more than that.

How he had wished for this moment to happen for such a long time. How he had dreamed to be able to gaze into his eyes and drown himself in them again. To be able to feel those arms around him and sync his heart with the Warrior’s, just like how those fairy tales would say.

All day he had those thoughts. As he traversed through his Tower, his Warrior was in his mind. As he checked every nook and cranny that wouldn’t put him in danger, he imagined his Warrior there. When he would concentrate on something else, as soon as the task was finished, images of his Warrior came up. If it weren’t for the fact that this was normal for him, he would almost be embarrassed.

Now here they were, with the love of his life touching him and being awake for it all.

His heart pounded behind his rib cage, needing to close his eyes and concentrated on his breathing while the Warrior checked him. Those fingers that he often dreamed of kissing were on his neck, calluses putting pressure all over, ghosting over his Adam’s apple--

He breathed in, tightening his folded hands as he tried to relax as best as he could. Could his Warrior sense his nerves? Would their fingers go higher or lower? His crystal, they were going over his crystal, no, no, no, move away from there--oh, they were behind his head… That, that felt _good._

He stilled his ears, knowing how much they wished to show his emotions, instead rubbing circles on the back of his palm. He feverently wished that they wouldn’t touch his crystal skin again. They deserved to touch better, they deserved _better_ \--

“If you are able, please open your mouth.” G’raha obeyed, finding no pain when he did so, listening to his Warrior’s gentle voice as they instructed him where to move his tongue, what to say, how to breathe.

Their thumb was on his bottom lip, gently pulling it down. Oh gods… Oh gods, no, no… Those thoughts. Push them back, push them back--!

“Hmm… I do think I know what ails you.” Oh thank the gods. Those thoughts were _maddening_ , his dreams overtaking his mind, his wants coming forward--

“You have “silence”. It can affect anyone, but it is more potent with mages. A simple potion will suffice, and I will make you a strong tea to hydrate your throat. I will also put some herbs to soothe it, it is quite swollen. How does that sound?” G’raha opened his eyes, blinking twice as he felt the Warrior move back. He made the mistake of looking forward, instantly locking eyes with A’viloh from them looking straight at him. He was starting to get sucked in, those soft, sure eyes looking deep into his very soul.

‘Breathe, concentrate, respond,’ his mind told him. ‘Forget and be normal.’ He nodded, giving his Warrior a smile. The smile that he received back almost took his breath away, his world fogging up for a second.

A’viloh looked over at his box by the door, smile fading slightly. He would have to go back to the room to get the ingredients to make the potion as well as bring the burner. He looked back at G’raha, full smile coming back.

“Let me get the ingredients that I need, it will only take a moment.”

G’raha followed the Warrior’s movement, how they briefly inspected the box that they brought in, as if they were doing inventory like the people in the Crystalline Mean would mid-afternoon. That box… Oh, was that for them?

Wait. His wounds. He had been so clouded by his thoughts that his eyes had conveniently ignored the bandages around his Warrior’s torso and shoulder. They looked clean, no puss or blood coming through them, though he could still smell the strong medicine behind them.

He promised to take care of his wounds. That was the deal. And they were already halfway to the door.

‘No, come back! My Warrior, your wounds!’

They were leaving, _wait_ …!

G’raha reached for them, trying to let out that word, but of course it wouldn’t come out. He had to act.

Quickly, he ran across the bathroom, A’viloh’s ears turning as his arm was grabbed and pulled back enough to halt him. There was some force to it, but not at all harsh, the Warrior stopping immediately and looked down at G’raha in surprise. The leader did not let go, walking in front of him and making a point by standing in front of the door. He pointed at A’viloh’s side and shoulder, concern filling his eyes. A’viloh tilted his head, looking down at said places. They looked fine?

“Ah…. I’m not in much pain, don’t worry,” he reassured with a smile. It was a dull pain, nothing to worry about. G’raha shook his head fiercely, pleading up at the Warrior.

‘Your wounds, we need to clean your wounds…!’

A’viloh’s shoulder dropped slightly, tilting his head the other way. Curing silence wouldn’t take long, but they needed a way to communicate in the meantime. If G’raha couldn’t speak, then maybe--

His ears went straight with the emotion that he was taught some time ago, (“Eureka”, was it?), grabbing his journal and dipping his quill with ink. He opened it to a blank page and held both items out to his friend, grinning at his solution. G’raha blinked several times, looking back and forth from the journal to A’viloh in confusion. A slight smile came up when he figured it out, gently taking the items and began to write. A’viloh’s tail swished behind him, curious as to what his friend was writing. A part of him was giddy at such an opportunity. He had sent letters to his sister often, and now he could converse with his friend in the same manner.

G’raha handed the journal back, A’viloh eagerly taking the item. He had never been able to see G’raha’s handwriting (surprisingly) when they were in Mor Dhona, astonished at how neat and elegant it was when he finally did because of the sandwiches (not that he knew it was his dear friend back then). He assumed that it should have been that way because of his position as illegible handwriting was almost taboo. Was his handwriting like this before he went to sleep…?

~We made a promise that if I consented to you treating my wounds, I would assist with yours. I have been afflicted with “silence” for a day now, I can wait a bit longer to get it treated. With my sight returned, I hope that I can be of better use to you. What is it that you need me to do?~

Ah. Yes, they did make that promise yesterday--wait, a day!?

“W… Wait a moment, ho-how long have I been asleep?” A’viloh questioned in shock. G’raha smiled easily, hands outstretched as A’viloh handed the journal back. His friend wrote quickly, turning the item around.

~A full day, but worry not, nothing has happened.~

“Full glad am I of that… B-But a _day_? Were you alright? How is your back? Is that all that ails you?” A’viloh asked in rapid succession, tail wrapping around his waist while he leaned down to examine his friend better. G’raha took note of that, smiling softly for a moment before he went back to writing, taking a slight step back to have space. It filled his heart with warmth to know that he was right about his Warrior: they would never get annoyed at him for such troubles and would immediately tend to them.

~You were exhausted, my friend. I only wish that you could have slept more, Twelve knows that you needed it. I was fine, I mostly tended to myself and checked on the Tower. My back is doing well, all thanks to you. I thank you deeply for your treatment, and rest easy: “silence” and my healing back are all that ails me~

A’viloh re-read the sentences a few times, index finger lightly rubbing across the words. The last part was faded, the quill having lacked ink at the end, but the words were still there and smudged slightly. His smile matched the soft one that he was given before, looking up at his friend. G’raha had been paying close attention to him, showing surprise at the softness in his friend’s eyes, holding himself down to not look away. What was he thinking?

“I’ll admit, I could have slept far longer, but this little guy was having none of that,” he chuckled. His lesser panda chirped from being acknowledged, lightly head butting the Warrior for some pets, which he gladly gave. G’raha looked at the creature in curiosity, his expression easily giving away that he had no idea what it was. A’viloh grinned, taking his friend off his shoulder and cradled him in his arms.

“Ah! I’m sure you both haven’t met, nor have you seen such a cute thing. This is a lesser panda. I found him while I was going through the Aery all those years ago. The poor thing was on top of a pillar, trying to get away from several of Nidhogg’s broods. I think he wasn’t eaten on the spot because of Nidhogg knowing Estinien and I were there,” he explained, giving the little one a kiss on the top of their head. G’raha was listening to every word the Warrior said, truly he was, but more than that, what he was _really_ paying attention to was how A’viloh was holding the panda. He was so gentle and loving, giving his undivided attention to the little one. He held him like it was the most precious thing in the world, and he looked at the panda with such adoration.

Oh, it made his heart ache with want. His Warrior had changed--for the better. Before they were so cold and distant. Now, they were brimming with love and life and nurture--

“His name is Hop. Not a very creative name, I know. But he seemed to like the word a lot after I told him to hop down from the pillar after the brood was gone and I have called him that ever since. Hop, meet G’raha.” He held out Hop to his friend, smiling from ear to ear. G’raha snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his name and that familiar “mrr?” and an orange tail flicking in front of his face. He had never touched, much less carried, such a fuzzy animal, but he refused to show his nervousness. The… very cute panda was comfortable in the Warrior’s hands and he trusted the Warrior in not giving him a dangerous animal. 

Slowly, he reached out with his flesh hand. Palm up, slowly reach out, and wait for a response, just like how he taught Lyna all of those years ago when she first met Amaro chicks.

The panda immediately reacted, licking his fingers and nuzzled his palm, letting out content noises. My, he was certainly friendly. Or did the Warrior train him to be that accepting of people?

“Awww, he likes you!” A’viloh cooed, taking a step closer to put Hop in G’raha’s arms. Hop got comfortable in no time, fluffy tail flicking all over in glee. Even G’raha couldn’t help himself from chuckling silently, the panda radiating warmth over his very cold torso. He did not forget what they needed to do, however, giving A’viloh a knowing look.

_It’s time for your wounds._

A’viloh smiled sheepishly, grabbing Hop as G’raha handed him back to his owner, the little one letting out sounds of discontent at being put down, shivering from the cold floor.

“I gotcha. Let us start with my shoulder.” Grabbing a pair of scissors, he brought the empty chair that was by the door and sat down.

“Cut along here,” he pointed at his upper arm, holding still while G’raha carefully cut the bandages. It took a while to get them off, the salve really sticking to the wounds. Once it was uncovered, A’viloh winced as air hit the open wound. G’raha went still, going pale at seeing the hole. Wide eyes focused on it, not able to stomach coming closer to figure out how deep and wide it truly was.

‘He… H-How… The pain… This looks… ’ He couldn’t formulate any complete thoughts, holding the bandages with trembling hands. A’viloh took note of it, smiling faintly at his friend and taking the bandages before his friend tightened his grip on them like he had with the lavender two days ago.

“It looks bad. But trust me when I say, it is not as painful as it looks. The wound is healing well.” G’raha still wouldn’t look at him, taking note of the deep bruising around the wound. Steeling himself, he took a step forward. The hole was easily an ilm and a half in diameter, though he still couldn’t see how deep it was. It looked inflamed in certain parts, a deep red all around. His entire shoulder was bruised, some parts darker than others. The pungent medicine reached his nose, him breathing away from his Warrior’s shoulder as he tried to be neutral. His lips went tight, ruby eyes hardening, and he couldn’t push back his worry. How could they move around with such a wound? Could they truly rest? He wished dearly to heal and soothe his Warrior right this instant.

“Let me dip some clean thin rags into the potion that I created so that I can put them in.” Hooking his leg on top of the box, he swung it to them, swiftly reaching down to grab the salve before G’raha could ask where it was. He needed to work quickly to clean the wound before any type of infection could fester. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw G’raha getting more comfortable with the scene, but his hands were still trembling here and there. He handed the vial to the leader, putting his hands over G’raha’s. Brown eyes locked with red ones as he instructed clearly.

“Follow my lead.”

=====

G’raha had done incredibly well during the cleaning, despite how wide his eyes had gotten when A’viloh literally put rags into the wound. The leader’s stiff movements slowly became more relaxed, almost as if he had some muscle memory with such administrations, his hands at times moving without A’viloh’s instructions. He had experience in cleaning wounds it seemed. ‘It must have unnerved him to have seen such a deep wound and me still able to move so well,’ was the only explanation he could come up with when G’raha paled. He thankfully did not have to inject himself with anesthesia, Eos using healing magic to push back the pain as G’raha cleaned off the excess potion.

His side wound took longer to clean from him having missed certain important spots from the claw marks reaching his mid-back. His friend had done a magnificent job with that wound too, him feeling the healing salve working straight away. His expressions were still just as open, a deep sadness in those ruby gems, but did not let such a wound deter him. Hop had settled himself at A’viloh’s feet, whimpering here and there when he heard A’viloh hiss under his breath, head butting his owner’s legs every so often. Petting Hop’s head certainly helped him focus elsewhere.

The leader had also refused A’viloh to clean up, definitely having taught Lyna how to inflict fear into people with just a look. Who knew that the kind Exarch could become a terrifying leader in an instant? A’viloh helplessly watched as his friend packed everything up and put it away in his room, his eyes telling A’viloh to stay, an order that the Warrior sheepishly obeyed.

After changing into a clean set of clothes (G’raha vowing to wash the trousers A’viloh had graciously given him all those days ago), both were in the kitchen, A’viloh’s chin on his hands as he watched G’raha cook in silence. Soft music came from A’viloh’s portable orchestrion, Eos fluttering around G’raha every so often. Hop was sleeping soundly in A’viloh’s lap, the Warrior absentmindedly petting his fuzzy head.

When A’viloh had asked if G’raha was hungry, the leader shook his head, explaining through writing that his need for food varied, though he _could_ still eat. He was vague with that topic, though A’viloh easily deduced why that was. He wasn’t going to push, instead letting G’raha speak about it whenever he was ready, if he ever wanted to.

Just how A’viloh learned something new about G’raha, G’raha also learned something about A’viloh. His Warrior wasn’t too experienced with cooking, hence why he had so much magicked food in his bag. He gushed about the wonderful sandwiches G’raha had made him some time ago, giving the leader the idea of making them again, pushing aside his embarrassment (though deep down, it made him incredibly happy). They were quick, easy, and filling. He was just about done, checking the sandwiches one last time. Vegetables, meat, eggs, spreads...

He wiped his hands on a rag, coming over to quickly write something in the journal in front of A'viloh.

~Would you like some tea?~

Those were the magic words for A'viloh: his ears wiggled in delight, brown eyes shined like stars, and his tail flicked behind him in excitement. He bobbed his head a few times and jumped to his feet, setting about to assist with that task.

G'raha's eyes melted at the sight. The Warrior adored tea, him vividly remembering reading so in the many books about the Warrior. Whether it was from the Ishgardian history books, Eorzean journals, Hingashian scrolls--all would put in that simple fact that the Warrior of Light loved tea. Even the interviews done on the Warrior's behalf spoke of this. 

And here they were, looking around the various cupboards for the kettle and leaves. G’raha looked on, knowing just where they were but he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt the Warrior’s hunt, letting himself relax and watch with soft eyes. They weren’t looking, meaning that he could let his emotions show a little, right?

He found the kettle faster than the leader thought, filling it up with water as he gushed.

“I will make a tea that will help your throat and I promise that the medicine will not taste so strong. What would you like? Lemon? Orange? Mint? Peppermint? Green? Oolong? White? Black? Yellow? Oh!” He turned around, some of the water sloshing, thankfully landing in the sink.

“I should have asked, what tea do you have? I may be able to make us a mixture if you so wish,” he continued with a bright smile. When he saw the leader stare at him with a strange expression, his smile left, taking a step towards him. He must have ranted again… His tail wound up around his waist, hugging the pot to him.

“Ah… would you prefer water? I can still make the medicine not as strong. Or perhaps, milk with honey would suffice,” he tried, coming down from his high. He was being weird strange, most likely having scared his friend. He needed to remember to tread carefully with G’raha. Their relationship was starting to bloom before he slept but anything that could have been was slammed closed, literally.

He knew where he wanted to go. He knew what he had to say. But he couldn’t push and pull on his own. Deep in his heart, Esteem could sense something from G’raha too. They had seen that look many times before--they had given that look to the Warrior more time that they could count. They could feel strongly what they wanted because Esteem felt it too.

G’raha blinked, eyes wide at realizing that he was being talked to. His hands frantically waved in front of him, almost sprinting to the journal as he wrote like his life depended on it.

~My apologies! I was lost in thought--those musings were of no importance, I apologize for my rudeness. You can make whatever tea you wish, A’viloh. Use any of the ingredients that will sate your appetite, make whatever concoctions you feel would taste best. I trust your judgement.~ He set the journal down when he saw A’viloh lifting his eyes away from the journal, looking deep into his. They were still warm--focused, patient, _waiting._

A’viloh set the kettle on the stove, wiping his hands on his trousers and walked to the table. Carefully, he dipped his quill to the ink pot and wrote, slowly, deliberately. He mimicked how G’raha held the journal to his chest, letting him read his small handwriting. It was on purpose--he _wanted_ G’raha to come close.

And come close he did. He came as close as he comfortably could and leaned forward. ~Never think that your musings are not important. Your mind has always held the most thought-provoking musings I have ever come across in a person. They were precious to me all those years ago and they are just as precious to me now. If I may ask: what is on your mind?~

Oh. Did he always say such meaningful things? Judging from the look in his eye, he meant them too.

He promised to himself that he would be honest with the Warrior when he could. This, this he could try to be honest about. Perhaps letting out a bit of his heart won’t be a bad thing. A large part of him wanted to try, that sixth sense of his that he rarely ignored gently pushing him to take that step. ‘Show him a part of your heart,’ it said.

A’viloh gave the journal back when G’raha held his hands out, tilting his head when he saw his friend come around the square table and sit on the chair next to his. He wrote his piece and was about to give the journal back but then had more to say, getting a bit more comfortable. The Warrior patiently waited, sitting next to him while also giving him space, gently fumbling with Hop’s ears, much to the little panda’s delight. G’raha glanced up at him, lips momentarily pulling up in his usual smile before he went back to writing. And he wrote, and wrote, and wrote. The kettle whistled once ready, A’viloh quietly getting up and rummaging for some cups.

‘He told me to make anything that I would like… Hmm… let’s surprise him.’

It had been a while since G’raha wrote so much, his hand beginning to cramp up. When the crystal spread throughout his right arm, he never thought that he could write again, taking him a long time to re-learn how to write once the crystal took over. He tried to teach himself how to write with his left, and succeeded, but by the time he did, he had more mobility with his crystal arm. He massaged his right hand as best he could once he was done, looking over at the Warrior. A’viloh was just about finished pouring the tea, G’raha noticing him put extra ingredients in one of the cups. He looked so sure, his hands steady and precise. Ruby eyes trailed up, examining the soft shirt on his back (at G’raha’s behest) and how it pressed along his muscles. He swallowed, looking elsewhere on his body, eyes landing instead on his muscled arms and how they flexed with his movements.

When they first met, the Warrior was an arcanist through and through. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine them changing their profession to a knight--a dark knight, to be precise. He thought there was a mistake in the first book that depicted him as one when he read such a thing, thinking it strange but ignored the fact. However, when the next book described his sword and how it cut through the hoard of dragons that threatened to overrun the outskirts of Whitebrim, he knew that something must have changed with the Warrior, and drastically.

Now here they stood, stronger than ever, their body fully showing it.

“Here, tell me how this tastes.”

G’raha’s tail thumped on his chair once, breaking out of his stupor when a tea cup appeared under him. A’viloh had pulled the journal to his side of the table, the tray of sandwiches in between them along with the kettle. G’raha worded out a “thank you”, bringing the tea to his lips.

Cinnamon.

There was medicine in the cup too, but--the cinnamon.

They made their cinnamon tea.

A’viloh was staring intently at G’raha, hoping with all his heart that the tea was good. The cinnamon smelled fresh enough, he made sure to not let the lemon be as potent (just a few drops), and added a swirl or two more of honey. He expected a smile and a nod, or maybe a hint of whatever more he could add to the tea. He reached for the journal without looking away, slowly bringing it in front of him as he waited. And waited.

Finally, G’raha reacted. But not in the way he expected.

Tears went into his tea, flesh and crystal hands cradling the cup as if it were his most precious possession. He tried to blink back his tears, he really did. The cinnamon in his mouth and the wonderful memories that flooded into his mind did not let him. Tilting his head up, faded red ears pinned back when he saw worried brown eyes.

“How did you know,” he desperately wanted to say, but his lips only trembled. ‘How did you know that I wanted this for so long?’

A’viloh helplessly watched his weeping friend, not having a clue on what to do. What did he do wrong? Did the tea bring up a terrible memory? Was it not to his liking? _What was wrong?_

‘Ask him,’ came Esteem’s simple command.

“Was it something I did? Can I mend this?” He asked pitifully. His hands desperately wanted to wipe away his tears, arms throbbing to close around him. He didn’t. He waited.

G’raha’s mouth opened and closed with how much he wanted to say, yet his condition forbade him. With how desperately he wished to speak, he strained his throat even more, the words coming out in harsh breaths. He frantically looked around, eyes landing on the prize. Setting the cup down as carefully as he could, his fingers rapidly tapped on the journal in front of the Warrior. ‘Read it,’ his tear-filled eyes pleaded.

A’viloh looked down at the journal and then to G’raha. Once, twice, then his eyes settled onto the journal. He had taken a long time to write, almost the entire page filled. Upon closer inspection, some sentences had been started, but then crossed out for new ones. Words were X’d, accumulated ink from the quill being held in one place for too long could be seen, and other such curious mistakes. His musings were on the page, just like how A’viloh had asked.

But he couldn’t concentrate on them. This is what he wanted, but now he wanted his dearest friend, no, his most important person, to feel better. Looking around the kitchen, his eyes landed on the clean rags and towels on the open shelf, standing up in one swoop to get one. He wished he had something better, but this was the best they had.

G’raha watched as his Warrior sat back down and how they looked at the towel with hesitation. With an exhale, he handed it to the confused leader, eyes showing how much more he wished he could do. When G’raha simply held the item, A’viloh smiled faintly, gently taking it from him and carefully dabbed under those shining gems, watching how they widened from the gesture. With light strokes, he dried G’raha’s damp, flushed cheeks, scooting his chair slightly closer so as to not awkwardly extend his back and arm. He almost stopped himself from wiping under the leader’s nose, but pushed through, not minding in the least; he just didn’t want the leader to get embarrassed over his runny nose, the Warrior finding it quite adorable.

The leader instantly sniffled at that, turning his head away slightly from realizing his dripping nose. The Warrior exhaled through his nose in endearment, using another part of the fluffy towel to wipe once more under his friend’s nose. Not wanting to push his luck, he used his other hand to make G’raha grab the towel, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before he leaned back.

“I hope that you can tolerate the tea, my friend. Please finish it, it will help your throat. While you do, I will read what you wrote,” A’viloh pushed, turning his gaze to the journal as he slowly pushed the tea to his friend. In a daze, G’raha lifted his cup, clutching the damp towel to his chest. He hoped with all of his heart that his Warrior thought his flushed cheeks were from his crying and not from how full his heart was at the Warrior’s actions.

‘Gods… He could do anything kind and my heart grows a little more each time. What a foolish old man I am…’

A’viloh waited until the leader took a sip of the tea, that being enough of a queue for him to start reading.

~You ask a most difficult question, my friend. When you have lived as long as I, many thoughts can fill your head. I have had more thoughts than the stars that you have brought back to Norvrandt. I wonder… how much of what I have thought have you seen? You possess the gift that Mother Hydaelyn has bequeathed to her most special of children. I find myself thinking of how much of my failed plan did you see, of how long I slept until I was forced to wake. I wonder, how much did you see in your journey and of the people who shaped you into the man that you are today?

When I think of such things, my mind wanders to what has happened. I think of the distant past that we shared and how different things were. I think of the scholars that I shared bread with, and worked day and night to decode the secrets this Tower once held. I think… I think of the adventures that we shared and how many books I would put on your lap and hands. I will admit that I was quite childish back then, and I hope that I have made up for it while you have been here in the First.

I think of the battles that we have had here in Norvrandt, all of them which you have won. By the second bell of your coming, you were whisked away to Holminster Switch and battled valiantly against the Sin Eaters and Light Warden. You knew not of their existence until half a bell before and yet, you still went. You aided my people time and time again in Lakeland, went as far as the Flood’s remnants in Amh Araeng, traveled through the thick trees of the Rak’tika Greatwood, ascended the Ladder in Kholusia along with opening Eulmore’s eyes and doors, came back unscathed from Il Mheg and defeated their king, descended far into the waters of The Tempest…

You ended Emet Selch’s plans with his defeat. Though a part of me wishes there could have been a better outcome, alas, such thoughts are too naive for such a dangerous being. The same could be said for Vauthry--I will go no further with those musings.

But the place that my thoughts wander to is the present. 100 years. It took me 100 years to bring you here. In all of that time, I researched, I planned, I scrapped, I lead--I changed. I became who I am now. You said that I am still the person that you remembered, but that is far from the truth, my dearest friend. I changed to be the leader that my people so desperately wanted--nay, _needed_. My past actions say otherwise, yet I would never change the past that I have experienced here. If such an opportunity ever came, I would never take it. I am who I am and nothing can change that.

Yet… ~

A’viloh turned the page, glancing up at his friend. He did a double-take when he noticed him staring at him intently. His surprise must have shown as G’raha looked away quickly, his cup far more important. The Warrior noticed it being empty and poured him some more with a reassuring smile. Ruby eyes glanced at him momentarily before they settled back on the filled tea, nodding in thanks and attempting to smile, a small one coming out. A’viloh’s own grew, pushing the sandwich plate in his direction, picked a random one and eagerly bit into it. G’raha blinked in surprise, not able to keep himself from leaning forward. ‘He did not even look at it… How does he know if he will like it?’

The Warrior didn’t, of course, but he trusted his friend enough; he wasn’t too much of a picky eater, after all. Chewing slowly, his stomach growled at the hunger but was mostly paying attention to all of the different flavors. Eggs, ham, cheese, was that butter…? There were more ingredients but he couldn’t put his finger on them.

Oh gods, it tasted so good…

G’raha’s eyes widened when he saw the Warrior’s ears start to wiggle, brown tail swishing back and forth through the chair opening. He sipped his tea as he continued to watch, the Warrior biting into his sandwich with new energy, devouring it on the spot and picking up another one. They were incredibly content to the point where… w-was that a _moan_?! The leader’s ears swiveled forward at the sound, red creeping into his cheeks. H-How open…

A’viloh definitely heard his moan and dropped his sandwich straight to his lap, covering his mouth with both hands. His cheeks were as bright as G’raha’s eyes, sputtering out apologies as he went back to reading, Too open, too open…!

~Those are the thoughts of the Crystal Exarch. Those are his thoughts--my thoughts. We are one of the same, of course. Forgive me with how jumbled these words are, such are my thoughts and you wished to hear them.

Then I think further to the person that you remembered, the person back at the Source, slumbering back in your home: that eccentric, jovial, stubborn, free-spirited miqo’te with fiery red hair that loved to poke and prod to get your attention. How carefree those days were… Again, it is my hope that I have made up for those times that I bothered you. He was always so headstrong, always moving forward. It was that strength that he demonstrated that I focused on to help -me- move forward.

But then, the more I move forward, the more I see of a future that I did not think I would experience. I have not stepped out of this Tower but I do not need to in order to know how much Norvrandt will change. You made that change--and I with it. I will not lie, I feel both my nerves and excitement creep up when I know that I will be a part of it. It will be by my hand that I ease this change, though not alone. I will have the rest of my Crystarium family assist and I know in my heart that they will jump at the opportunity.

I must apologize, I have far too many thoughts. I will trouble you with them no longer. Though, I did neglect to answer your question. There was a time in our early days of the expedition where a strange chill took over Mor Dhona. We deduced that it was because of aetheric imbalance, which thankfully went back to normal days after. We had too much equipment at the camp and nowhere to go in Revenant's Toll, so we were forced to endure. There was only so much of Master Garlond’s coffee that we could induce from how… potent it was, so we thought of making tea. The different blends made in those three days were certainly creative but there was one blend that I never forgot--a simple blend, or so I thought, made of cinnamon and spices. And the one who made it was none other than the famous Warrior of Light. Oh, how it brought us such warmth and peace of mind, to be able to drink such a delicacy made by such an esteemed hero. It is a memory that brings me much warmth up to this day.

I admit, I could never get the ingredients right, no matter how much I tried. If you could by chance make such a tea, it would make me immensely happy.~

A’viloh’s fingers lightly brushed against the last sentence, a soft smile having come to his face long before he finished reading. He understood his friend’s tears now--he never expected his tea to be remembered so fondly, much less have someone try to replicate it. And those thoughts… Goodness, he had a lot on his mind… But it was not surprising considering his position.

Once again, G’raha was staring intently at A’viloh when they lifted their gaze from the journal. They were patient, waiting, just like how A’viloh’s eyes were not long ago. His cup was empty once again, an untouched sandwich on his plate. Had he been watching him this whole time?

A’viloh shifted to where he was facing his friend, just now remembering the sandwich that had dropped in his lap and put it on his plate. He was stalling, he knew--he just had to formulate his words carefully. Much of his friend’s musings were interesting, yes, but they all had a theme that he quickly realized half-way through the journal entry. 

“Your musings… ” He started, turning his gaze to the open journal. They may have seemed scattered, but they followed a theme. “There is… a lot on your mind. Would that I could alleviate you from them,” he wished with a sad smile. There was so much on his shoulders, just like him.

“This might sound self-centered, but I assure you that my words are far from it. You… ” he hesitated, angling his body to fully face the nervous looking miqo’te. He too had turned towards A’viloh, folded hands on his lap, though wringing them every so often. A’viloh’s smile turned soft, eyes closing with the gesture.

“I am in your thoughts a lot, aren’t I?” G’raha stilled at that, looking straight at his hands. Yes, yes he was. But he didn’t expect for his thoughts to be so transparent. He thought that he had done well in writing different things in the journal, thoughts that did not fully pertain to the Warrior of Darkness. Perhaps he let too much of them out--

“When… When you left, I thought about you a lot too.” A’viloh’s elbow went on the table, hand covering his face as he breathed slowly. G’raha tried to keep his stare at his hands, but when he heard A’viloh whisper, he had to look up. A chill ran down his spine, his back wound aching, though whether from actual pain or pseudo, he did not know.

“I was a hypocrite. I pushed you away for so long, and when you left, I finally paid attention to you. You say that I am kind, but when it comes to you, I was as cruel as the priests from Ishgard.” A’viloh felt himself shake. He had never said this to anyone, who would he say it to anyways? He kept his gaze forward, not having the courage to look at the person that he was speaking about. His words, they were not pretty. But he had to get this out. He was done pretending.

“Before, I would barely think, just moving to the next duty that was asked of me. When you left, I was forced to think. I thought so much that I could not sleep for days. So I wrote. I was given a weathered journal by Baderon when I first set foot in Limsa Lominsa, you see. I was told to write of my adventures. Baderon said that he saw great things in me and that he wanted to read all about them,” A’viloh chuckled, but it had no real humor in it. What carefree times…

“He was too busy to ever read of them, thankfully. That journal… ” His finger traced the rim of his cup, staring off at the stove. The stove was off, the smell of spices and cinnamon in the air but they provided no warmth to the chill that settled in the kitchen, the air as tense as how it was the other day. G’raha never imagined that this conversation would happen, that the Warrior would freely say such things about himself. He had no idea what he was thinking, but it sure wasn’t this. And yet, he was entranced. What more would the Warrior reveal?

“...that journal saved my life. Every journal that I have written, I made sure to painstakingly write as much detail as I could remember. I have said this many times already, but… you made me think. You were the first one that opened my eyes and made me appreciate what was around me. There were others that followed and added to my thoughts, but you were the first one that…”

_‘He was the first that treated you like a person,’_ came Esteem’s thoughts. _‘He was the first that became your world aside from your Scion companions.’_

‘He was my first… my first love.’

A’viloh smiled softly, glancing over at his friend with an exhale from his nose, a snort. “And you say that you ramble. Let us speak of something else before I bore you, or worse. Plus, I did not acknowledge your words that well, my apologies.”

G’raha’s whole body went down, his loose cotton shirt settling more comfortably on him. He hadn’t realized how attentive he was to the Warrior, hanging on his every word. The tension left the room, that moment having passed. Yet… Yet, he wanted to know more. The books that him and the Ironworks could bring into the tower, they only spoke of what the Warrior did. They never described how he felt, what he thought, how he was. Now here they were, speaking about himself. How he wanted this for so long, and now it had to stop.

G’raha shook his head, trying to not seem _too_ eager, and gave a reassuring smile. He turned his body more towards A’viloh as a sign that he will listen, no longer wrangling his hands. G’raha wanted to hear more about his Warrior, not of himself. What was he compared to his hero? Less than the parchment paper from the journal, that’s what.

A’viloh tilted his head in curiosity at his friend’s actions. He turned to the journal and then to his patient friend. It really was a lot to digest and figure out what to say. Such things would be better off thinking through a bath or under a shower head…

….!

A grin slowly came up, ears perking up at the idea that popped into his head. Holding up a finger, he quickly turned to his whole sandwich and promptly inhaled it, wiping away any residue on his face. G’raha was too stunned (worried? Amazed? How did he do _that_ _without choking?_ ) to say anything, staying still and waiting like he was told. A’viloh once again turned to G’raha and leaned forward with excitement.

“I think that we would do well with a shower or a bath. What do you think?”

G’raha blinked twice, looking down at his tea cup, the sandwiches that he made, and the journal. He opened his mouth but then promptly closed it, at a loss on how to respond. A’viloh seemed to notice his confusion and smiled sheepishly.

“What you said, er, wrote, it is very important to me. And I would like to have enough time to think about your musings and give a good answer to them, even if they might not seem important later. You have a lot on your mind, even if you have only been active for a few days. And I think a shower or a bath would do us good!”

G’raha mimicked A’viloh’s head tilt at his words, slowly reaching over, gave the quil a dip and wrote at the corner of the page.

‘Please do not trouble yourself with such things. They are scattered thoughts, nothing more. We should instead concentrate on our recovery.’ A’viloh looked as G’raha retracted his hand, setting the quill into the ink pot. He continued to stare as he settled back into his chair, hands folded on his lap.

Scattered thoughts, nothing more.

No, it is not all.

“...I know that my thoughts and actions seem jumbled. They are, I know that they are. Let me ask before we get any further: what would you like for me to call you? I never asked and that was rude of me to do.”

Several seconds passed before G’raha reached for the quill again, much slower this time, as if he was thinking it through as he went to grab it. He tapped on the paper twice before he wrote on a new page, curving his last word as the quill laid on the yellow parchment.

‘You can call me whatever you would like.’ Pushing down his feelings to tease him was harder than A’viloh thought, the seriousness of the question helping him.

“I can call you a myriad of things. A name, that is your identity. It makes you who you are. I would like to hear that response from you.” A’viloh made sure to catch G’raha’s eye as he asked again, his voice calm and soft. Encouraging.

“What do you want me to call you?”

Unsure eyes stared back for a few seconds before they trailed down to his lap, his hands twitching as he fought back the temptation to wrangle them again. A’viloh could see the great storm that brewed within his friend and how they wrestled with the question. It wasn’t easy, A’viloh knew all too well from having many names and his real name rarely said. Those are times that he wished for no one to go through and he hoped that he could help through this. The last thing he wanted was to bring his friend anguish but he also knew that this was something that they had to go through if they would have any type of normalcy in their relationship.

When the silence stretched, A’viloh smiled faintly, trying to figure out a way on how to reassure him. Something told him that it would be best to not touch him, so he leaned forward and spoke softly.

“It’s okay. You do not have to answer at this moment, nor this day. I would like for you to think it through and firmly answer me when you have decided.”

G’raha couldn’t bring himself to look up, too ashamed to face A’viloh. The man was too good to him. It was a simple question that deserved a simple answer. He was the Exarch and everyone called him that. That was his role. G’raha… that G’raha was back at the Source. He knew that. There was proof of that.

“Is there anything I can do to make this easier on you? More tea? Maybe some medicine? Physical comfort?” He wanted his cowl. He wanted to hide for the rest of his immortal life and never come out. He wanted…

He wanted to be as strong as the Warrior of Darkness and have the courage to say what was in his heart. But what he wanted and what he deserved would never be equal. Gods, he was like a broken orchestrion… No, he was like his broken clock, always ticking obnoxiously and either too slow or too quick on the clicks. It needed to get fixed.

_He_ needed to get fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was quite a bit, wasn't it? It looks like a certain miqo'te's heart is starting to pound on those strong walls that their owner has placed around it, hmm? :)
> 
> There's still a bit of tugging and pushing and pulling in this chapter. More will happen in the next, and in the finale, until it gets resolve. That is something that I really want to stress on, that one's emotions aren't always easy to handle and you can't always act on them: what the mind says is not always what the heart wants. Relationships aren't easy and it takes great patience and understanding to finally come in agreement in one. Even when you think you've solved it, the heart is a finicky thing.
> 
> Ending that serious bit, let's get to the author and artists! For each chapter, I try my best to find treasures that I have enjoyed that resonate with the current chapter or follow the theme for said chapter without having any repeats on the content creator. For this one, "Incandescent" by ShainaYu (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20174071) really hit the nail on the coffin. It was a treat to read of the WoL's hesitation and see the great storm that brewed within them and how the wrestled back and forth with those feelings. And how a certain someone showed them that it was okay to be happy (hint hink, wink wink, nudge nudge). Please give this one-shot, along with their other work, "Storge" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20368747) a chance, you will not be disappointed! The first one does have NSFW parts, though they're more towards the end, so proceed with caution :)
> 
> As for the artists, the first one is 파판배포B4a)Cocorabi (@ff14_gokgo) on Twitter! Their artwork of G'raha, both cute and serious, are amazing, along with their screenshots! Definitely give them a look and a follow :) Another artist is くも (@wasadnt), who is also on Twitter! Their artwork is incredibly soft from their depictions of baby G'raha (and adult!) and their use of colors is amazing. Soft, tender, and more soft! Please give them a look, along with the other content creators mentioned before, you will not be disappointed!
> 
> Before I end this, I just want to thank all of you who have given this work a chance. Thank you for having read the first chapter, thank you for having made it this far, and thank you to those that just peaked in one or twice to see what this was about. I will never be able to thank all of you enough and with what you all leave behind each chapter, whether it's a hit, a kuddo, a comment, or even a bookmark. Thank you, so, so much, I feel incredibly blessed.
> 
> Thank you for making it this far and as I said, there are only two chapters left, so please stick to the very end :) I'm very much on a roll, so I hope that I can post another chapter very soon.
> 
> Please stay safe, stay healthy, and be well :)


	10. ...You to Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could something so beautiful curse him so.
> 
> _‘Oh ho. I dare say that this can work in your favor, oh honorable hero. You best act on it before he slips away from your fingers once more.’_
> 
> He was striking a deal. Just like in the past.
> 
> He wanted to see them. Just a peek. One quick peek and he will leave them be.
> 
> Tomorrow. He will show him tomorrow. He needed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter before the week is over, yiss! ^^ Lots more going on in this one and we finally, finally find out the reason for G'raha's ailments! After 9 chapters and I am so sorry for that -sobs- Last chapter, G'raha had his own theory as to why everything was going from with his body, though in actuality, it's more so on why he's healing so slowly, among other things. In this one, we get to hear A'viloh's thoughts and speculations, and they hit the nail right on the coffin. It's nothing ground breaking nor complex, so I apologize for the disappointment ^^;;
> 
> I mentioned that this was the 2nd to last chapter and the next one will be the last one to this series! But worry not, I have more planned and have two chapters already completed for the next one and currently writing the third one. That series will go by much slower from needing to write, edit, and post, so I hope dearly that you all of you will join me for the ride ^^
> 
> Before we start, thank you so much for the wonderful comments and kudos! You all are incredibly kind for leaving such lovely gifts and for taking the time to do so. Without your guy's support, I can safely say that this series would be posted much, much slower. But as always, please don't ever feel obligated in leaving anything, just knowing that you're all here for the journey is enough ^^ So thank you!!
> 
> As always, please stick to the end for mentions of incredible content creators, there are so many that deserve to be seen and for their works to be shown as much love as all of you have for this work!
> 
> And without further interruptions, please enjoy! :D

The silence was starting to unnerve A’viloh, his tail fluffing out and swayed slowly, him shifting every so often on his chair. G’raha was still looking at his lap, apparently still deep in thought. Hop was somewhere in the kitchen still, most likely huddled in a corner and Eos had left long ago to give the two miqo’te’s privacy. The Warrior looked over at the sandwiches, seeing how many were left. One, two, three… Goodness, he made quite a bit for only two people.

His clothes were starting to itch from how much medicine he had put on himself. He really needed a shower… But he wasn’t going to leave his friend like this. What to do…

_‘If you don’t speak up, I will.’_ That was more than enough for A’viloh to act, knowing full well what Esteem was capable of. His tail wrapped around his waist as he spoke quietly, hurriedly.

“Ah, my friend… Would you mind terribly if I used your bathroom? Just a quick run under the water will do. You see… ” A’viloh trailed off at the end, noticing how G’raha did not react. Thinking that he was very deep in thought, he cleared his throat and started again.

“I apologize for interrupting, but if I may… ” Nothing. Not a single twitch or acknowledgement. Did he upset him again…?

A’viloh knew he shouldn’t touch him, but he had no other choice. Slowly reaching over, he went to place a hand on him and knew he had his attention once the leader saw his hand, jumping in his chair from surprise and snapped his head up. Quickly retracting his hand, A’viloh smiled in apology and asked his question, but G’raha only stared blankly, focusing on his lips. His eyebrows furrowed and cocked his head, a frown slowly appearing. A’viloh was starting to worry, speaking again.

He knew something was terribly wrong when G’raha paled significantly, a finger coming up to one of his ears, and then the other. Both swiveled a few times, G’raha folding them once, then twice. The more he touched them, the more frantic he became. A’viloh grabbed his hands before he panicked more, placing them on G’raha’s lap. He picked up his journal and hastily wrote a message.

~May I check your ears? But before that, once you have read this, try to greet me.~

G’raha swallowed and took a shallow breath in. He was visibly shaking, clenching his hands as he tried to control it. A raspy greeting came out, him blinking twice when he felt his throat vibrate. He looked up and saw A’viloh nodding and then pointed to his ears, wanting to do the next step. G’raha nodded slowly and leaned forward, but A’viloh stood, coming close as he gently took his ears and folded them here and there. They were incredibly soft, the tips the same hue as his faded red hair, despite them hastily groomed. Perhaps later… 

Shaking his head, he continued. He wouldn’t be able to properly assess without a flashlight, but this would have to do at the moment. His suspicions were proving correct the more symptoms his friend had and how they would go away after receiving medication.

‘He shows no signs of his symptoms until something relating to them happens, meaning that even _he_ doesn’t know of what is happening. Touch, sight, and now hearing… Next will be taste and smell, thankfully the least severe of the five senses… The Tower… it _must_ be the cause of all this… My poor scholar...’

As he continued to fold one of G’raha’s ears here and there, he wrote on the journal his thoughts and speculations, and placed it on G’raha’s lap. His head tilted down slightly to read, A’viloh taking a step back to give him room.

~It will be alright. As before, I have medicine that I can give you. Your other symptoms are leaving, most likely because of the medication I put in your tea. I also think it was from the time that had passed. We will not get into the technicality, but I have a theory on all of this.

Because of you having used so much magic for so many days and being away from the Tower for so long, when you returned, your body re-attuned/connected with the Tower once more. Your senses come and go because of that, though thankfully not for long and only temporarily. You will be alright, this should be the last sense that will be affected. Perhaps taste and smell will come after but that can get fixed. After all of that, you should be well.~

A’viloh let go of his ears, waiting for him to lift his head. When he did, the Warrior nodded and smiled, trying to bring some comfort to the leader. It worked, G’raha’s ears coming down slightly but they came back up again, nodding back. He was trying to be strong, A’viloh could see that, but all of this was starting to get to him. He shouldn’t touch him, he really shouldn’t, but… Gods, seeing him this way, it truly broke his heart. He needed to stay strong for him, he needed to give him strength.

G’raha wanted to believe. He didn’t have the heart to tell his friend of his own theory for his symptoms, but his Warrior’s words made more sense than his thought. So this Tower… this prison of his, _this_ was the cause. Of course it was, how could _he have been so blind?_

How could something so beautiful curse him so.

A’viloh slowly went down on his knees, the cold floor bringing up goosebumps on his arms and legs, but he ignored them. He needed to do something similar to the first night, something to bring him comfort. He never broke eye contact with G’raha as he slowly grabbed his hands, gently stroking the back of them. He continued, adding a bit of pressure here and there as he continued to massage them. Breathing evenly, he smiled as he could feel the tension slowly, so very slowly, leave his friend. A distant memory came to mind, one of where he did the exact action to his sister, long, long ago.

_Vivid green color, the smell of morning dew, sinking shoes as mud splashed up. Shallow breathing, terrified whimpers, shaking shoulders. A gentle hand, soft, reassuring whispers, kisses on cold hands and fingers, Loving nuzzles with head bunts, touching red ears and carrying them to safety._

He couldn’t do all of that, sadly. He knew that. Both people were important to him for different reasons. Still…

As G’raha evened his breathing, he noticed a soft look on A’viloh’s face. His eyes were distant, his movements slow and repetitive. He was clearly somewhere else, making G’raha wonder as he concentrated on the movements. Where was his Warrior?

He followed A’viloh’s thumbs, the movement soothing as little sparks went up his arms, making him shiver. They were incredibly strong just a few days ago, but he said nothing of them, especially with what happened the other day. It seemed so long ago, though only a few days had passed. He followed the movements so carefully that he failed to register his hands being brought up and have lips on them. More than that, pressure behind those lips and how they curled around his fingers.

Oh.

_Oh_

That was different. Th-This was. _Oh_.

He tried very hard to remain neutral. He really, really tried. Those lips, they were incredibly tender and light on his skin. The warmth breath from his Warrior’s nose fanned on his knuckles, slow and even. G’raha could barely breathe, his knees locked tight against each other as his face began to turn red. He should have minded: _no one_ ever dared to touch the Crystal Exarch, except for the children, something that he always admired. But this, _this_ was not the same. The Warrior never verbally asked.

Come to think of it, they rarely did when it came to these tender moments.

He did not know what to make of this. His mind was clouded over, the edges of his vision white. He did not know what to say or how to react. Should he pull his hand away? Should he reassure the Warrior that he was fine? Should he thank him?

The Crystal Exarch would have smiled and thanked them while pulling his hand away. He would have done all of the above. He would apologize for worrying them and keep his distance. He would have-- _should have_ \--done all of that.

But he couldn’t. His heart wanted to leap out of his chest and place itself in his Warrior’s hands. His fingers wanted to tangle with his and squeeze them. His body wanted to be closer to him and press his arms against his and lay his forehead against his and feel his breath on his lips and drown in his eyes and--

He wanted that. His body wanted that. His mind screamed at him for that. _His heart yearned for that._

But he did none of that.

He stayed in his seat, barely breathing, and let his Warrior do what they wished. They did, eyes still far off as he rubbed the back of G’raha’s fingers against his lips, thumbs sweeping over them every so often. His mouth opened and quiet reassurances poured out of his lips. Much of it was the same, variants of “you will be alright”, “I am here”, “hang in there a little longer” and other common sentences. To anyone else, they were mindless words, but to the leader… They meant the world to him. When was the last time that someone said such things to him? He was always the one to say them, but never the other way around.

He was always the one to give strength. It was needed in these trying times and he knew, he _knew_ that people depended on him. He needed to be the beacon of light that he so desperately wished for the Tower to be. He never thought that he would be the one to need such words. The books of his Warrior, they were all that he needed. The memories of him, they gave him strength when it was all too much. And hearing them now…

He felt like he was on a cloud, high above the ground with the softest sensation around him. Pastel colors surrounded his vision, his mind blank and comfortable. Was this how it felt when all was right?

Too much time had passed, it seemed, from how quickly the sensation faded, his hands slowly turning cold. They were no longer held by the Warrior, his hands resting on his lap as A’viloh peered up at the leader. Their eyes were focused again, the same warm color sucking G’raha in. Everything around him was going by slowly, A’viloh applying slight pressure to the journal as he wrote. His words were clear, his handwriting--

Oh my… The words were so _clear_. They were slanted from him writing sideways but they were incredibly legible. Now that he thought about it, _he_ had never seen the Warrior’s handwriting. He wrote in journals, so of course he had enough practice. Of course.

They were looking at him expectantly. Ah, they were done writing. Let’s see…

~You are doing great, my friend. I know this is incredibly hard on you. Please, believe me when I say that you are doing a phenomenal job throughout all of these difficulties. I truly do believe that you are almost done, this being the last hurdle. I must sound like a pixie in your ear, and I apologize for that, but if there’s anything, _anything_ I can do to alleviate your symptoms, let me know. I imagine that you will need to be in here for a little while longer, but should you wish for some fresh air, we can think of a plan for you to leave these walls for a day or two. Or perhaps, are there any activities that you can do to keep yourself occupied while the medicine takes effect?~

G’raha blinked slowly, taking his time to process what he read. Job, pixies, medicine… Oh, there’s more.

~I am in desperate need of a shower. Would you mind terribly if I use your washroom? I promise to not leave a mess or use all of the hot water. I imagine that you would like to clean yourself too, all of that medicine won’t do your skin much good. I will not impose, so should you need assistance, I can help with the more delicate parts of your wound. Would you like to go first or should I?~

A’viloh’s hands were on G’raha’s knees, his legs starting to get numb from how long he had been sitting on them, but he paid it no mind. What mattered most was for his friend to be well. Ruby eyes blinked slowly a few times, almost as if he was waking himself up. He looked into A’viloh’s brown ones, almost as if that would help him focus. It seemed to do the trick, them widening slightly and quickly looking away, a slight flush on his cheeks. A’viloh blinked at the change, tilting his head in curiosity.

G’raha grabbed the quil and jotted something down quickly, glancing over at A’viloh’s hands and flushing even more. A’viloh saw that as a queue to keep his hands to himself and did so, putting them on his cold lap, the skin tingling from the pressure.

~You are much too kind. I will bathe at a different time, so please, take as much time as you need.~ He was still looking away, flushed still. One question down, two more to go. A’viloh wrote the next one, glancing here and there at the leader.

~Please let me know when you do. Your wound is still at a delicate stage, it would not do to make it worse. I will take a while, is there something that can occupy you? One of your favorite books, perchance?~ G’raha’s lips parted at the last sentence, a new light coming to his eyes.

~A favorite book… There are not many that I would consider “favorites” but there are some that do keep my attention willingly.~ A’viloh leaned forward in curiosity but then quickly went back, respecting their boundaries. G’raha didn’t miss the curiosity in his friend’s eyes as a slight smile appeared.

~Heavensward is one such book. Count Edmond’s retellings of your adventures in Ishgard never fail to take my mind elsewhere.~ The smile disappeared as he continued.

~They were… not all happy tales. There were many trials that you had to overcome in that frigid part of Eorzea. But in the end, more was gained than lost. That is a fact that I frequently tell myself whilst reading.~ Adventures… Trials… Retellings…

_‘Oh ho. I dare say that this can work in your favor, oh honorable hero. You best act on it before he slips away from your fingers once more.’_

A’viloh paused a few times as he wrote, scratching out certain words here and there. Once he was satisfied, he turned the journal to G’raha and did not look at him until the latter started reading.

~It is my hope that I do not come across as one seeking attention. Far from it. If I do, please tell me and I will put this topic to rest. You stated that you wished to have heard more of the human aspect whenever you read the reports made by the Ironworks. Though I did not join them for many journeys, there are some that I had the honor of seeing their projects through by my own methods and “expertise”, as they would put it.

I mentioned that I received my first journal when I set foot onto the stable floor of Limsa Lominsa and I meant it when I said that it saved my life. I have never shown my journals to anyone as I tend to write when I know that I am fully alone. You are someone that I trust dearly and so I ask: would you like to read them? I further hope that you will not be disappointed in not reading all of them for there are a few that I wish to keep their contents to myself.~

G’raha’s eyes glued themselves to the page, specifically to that single question.

‘Would you like to read them?’

It was a tantalizing offer, one that filled his lungs with too much air and almost all of it left his body. He was dreaming. This _must_ be a dream or else how could such a wish be placed right in front of him to where he only had to reach out to grasp it? It was a lifetime opportunity, an opportunity that he wanted for many decades, to be able to learn more about the Warrior of Light, more about the hero of the First, more about his…!

“I could not possib--” His words were abruptly cut off, needing to cover the harsh coughs that escaped him. The shock and disbelief were too much, voicing his doubts with a hoarse whisper and suffered the consequences in trying to speak. A’viloh went to pat him on the back and thankfully remembered to _not_ touch their back and instead brought the cold tea to their lips. G’raha gratefully took it and downed the contents in no time flat, sighing deeply in relief after. A’viloh quickly wrote on the journal and tapped on it to get G’raha’s attention, taking the cup after.

~Of course you can. If I did not wish--nay, _want_ \--for you to see them, I would not have offered, much less have spoken about them. You wished to know more about the human side of certain events, some of which I can only assume that I was a part of. You can read as little or as much as you would like, I give you my whole permission with them. I only ask that you discuss the contents with no one other than the author.~

He had no idea what to say. He was utterly mute. But his body reacted for him, too slow for him to compose himself. Slightly frizzed ears perked up in interest and want, his semi-brushed tail popping behind him and swishing. Those red eyes sparkled with a happiness that A’viloh had never seen, taking him aback from how easily they could be read. Slightly chapped lips pulled back a bit and then more until one of the biggest grin appeared on G’raha’s face. If all of that was not a resounding yes, the Warrior did not know what else would be.

Brown eyes softened considerably in reflex, that same softness reaching his own lips. As quickly as that happiness showed, that was how fast G’raha composed himself, ears pinned to his head briefly before they went to their normal stance, the embarrassed miqo’te coughing into his hand while looking away. A’viloh chuckled, putting his final piece before standing and starting the clean up.

~I will bring you the many journals you can choose from. Despite remembering that you were quite the fast reader, I do not foresee you reading through all of them before you fully recuperate. You may keep them for a time, I will have no need of them. I will bring you a fresh pot of tea and a sandwich, so make yourself comfortable wherever you wish. I will join you once I am done. Oh, and do not fret over the sandwiches. I am sure that Hop and Hubs will enjoy the feast.~

G’raha’s inquisitive eyes at reading another name was enough for A’viloh to summon his adorable fat cat. At least this time G’raha was able to hold back from reacting in seeing such a… round cat. It was _huge_ but could _still walk_. It’s beady eyes shone in seeing the feast, A’viloh setting the remaining sandwiches on plates as both minions leaped over and chowed down.

……….

...By the gods, the cat was _huge_ …!

=====

His friend had situated himself on the almost vacant sitting (or would it be considered lounging?) area, preferring the chair over the one-seater couch on the account that _the journals needed the cushion more than he_. Or so that’s how it seemed in A’viloh’s eyes. He didn’t question his eager friend when told where to set the journals. Instead, he focused on how G’raha’s eyes slowly widened with each journal placed on the couch.

While he carefully selected which ones to give, A’viloh explained how he organized them. The sturdy, large, qiqirn brown sturdy journal held stories of how he honed his skills with the various adventuring professions he had mastered. He was always adding to it, hence why their ends were knotted with strong strings. The smaller, sophisticated royal blue journal told some stories of how he became proficient in specific crafting professions, but more so held advice and lists of various kinds. The Warrior brought out smaller journals that went with the larger one, eyes glinting as he explained that they were his crafting journals and they went hand-in-hand with the blue one. He quickly apologized if they bored him and to skim through if he wished. Subtly, he put a humble green journal and two smaller ones under his crafting ones, should the leader want to read of his adventures dealing with the flora and earth of their home, as well as see pictures of them from his gathering journal; maybe some figurative fresh air will help?

But the journals that had a carved image on the front, those were the ones that G’raha wanted, A’viloh assured. He stacked them too quickly before G’raha could make sense of the images, though he knew that he would be memorizing said images very, very soon.

“I think that should be all.” He stretched as much as he could before he felt pain in his side, wincing and putting a hand over his wound. He waved reassuringly at his friend when he noticed their worried expression, ready to leap up. A’viloh gave them a warm smile and then reached into their bag for spare parchment paper. Writing a quick note, he set it on the table, poured some tea from the magicked pot and gave a little wave before walking out of the room with his large bag. 

G’raha turned to watch him leave, waited until the door closed and several moments more before he lept up from his chair and to the journals. Pain seared from his back, slapping both hands over his mouth to silence his yelp, followed by cursing and hissing. He was reminded again of his wound, not able to bend over from the pain. Breathing deeply, his knees ached from how quickly he had stood up and how harshly he landed on the floor.

‘You’re not as spry as before, Exarch. Remember your age,’ a part of him scolded. But the other part, the one that had made him move as such and filled him with the warmth and excitement that he had long forgotten, it didn’t care. Right in front of him, he had the history that no one else knew except for his Warrior and those that journeyed with him: his accomplishments, his failures, his trials, what he saw, how he felt, what he thought, what he did on the morrow, what he wanted, what he lacked, what he hated, what he liked.

They had… him. This was his story.

His chest bloomed with the same emotion he felt when he had figured out the way to save his Warrior: happiness, gratitude, and hope. That was a memory that he kept close to his heart and guided him when he made mistake after mistake after mistake in bringing the Warrior.

He pressed a hand to his chest at the pain from the memories that followed. Of how he brought some of the Scions over, of how he apologized profusely and could never look at any of them in the eye when speaking to them from the shame he felt (he was incredibly grateful for his cowl then, only needing to keep his head up to fool them). Of the 100 years that he had to wait until his Warrior was how he needed them to be while he could barely protect his people from the beings that wrecked the land. No matter how much they all fought, it was never enough. It would never be enough, the ground coated with enough blood to fill the remaining rivers of Norvrandt. As several children became orphans and the adults who survived overworked themselves close to death to fill the jobs of the ones who had perished bells before.

Cold crystal fingers trembled as they reached for the first journal, not able to make sense of the cover from how rapidly his tears flowed down. He cradled it to his chest as he tilted his head to the ceiling, smiling helplessly as he whispered out.

“No longer will they suffer. He has made sure of that.”

=====

The Warrior sighed deeply once he got settled in the washroom. He knew that there was much that he needed to take care of, but he didn’t realize it until it was all laid on the marble floor.

His various pieces of armor were spread out close to him, them desperately needing a good wash. He thanked his lucky stars for his simple glamour and having enough glamour dispellers for when he would bring all of the pieces to either Axel or Hangi-Rua for mending, but that was something he could take care of another day. The thin sheets of his friend’s bed were closer to the Allagan size bathtub (at least, he hoped it was and not a small swimming pool from how _enormous_ it was), praying to the Twelve that they would need a few washes to get rid of all the blood, salves, and only Azeyma knew what else was on the white sheets. Several wind and water crystals/clusters were scattered around along with jugs of holy water, and plenty of sage and incense to cleanse an entire manor.

He had hoped to get rid of Hades’s… impurities and dark matter somewhere else but it was inevitable. He didn’t feel comfortable letting the menders of the Crystarium suffer through the effects that such darkness could let out, even if their aether protected them. They had more than enough to deal with from mending the Scion’s armor, he thought.

His nose wrinkled when he got too close to his shirt when trying to inspect the damage, his nostrils already burning. Lighting up a few incense sticks, he began the intensive process of getting rid of the negative and impure energy.

He burned almost half his stock of sage by the time he was done and he might as well have bathed his clothes in holy water. He thankfully knew to take a break when he no longer had feeling in his knees and various bones cracked on his back when he stood, groaning as he massaged the back of his neck. He eyed his linkpearl that laid on the sink and put it in his ear once he decided who he could call. It wasn’t a hard decision on whom; he knew that he was in big trouble from his lack of communication, but he had to make amends sooner than later. The person on the other end answered almost immediately, though took several ticks to answer.

“...You know, I should have left my linkpearl ringing forever. Maybe that would have been enough to inform you of my displeasure.”

A’viloh winced, starting to pace around the large washroom from the nerves. His bare feet lightly patted the cold floor, sensation coming back to his knees. “...Perhaps. But I am relieved that you did pick up.”

The person on the other end huffed, A’viloh already able to see their nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing dangerously. “ _You are relieved?_ That is all that you have to say for yourself? Do you have _any idea_ how worried you made us?! One moment you are giving us orders and the next, you are gone and Captain Lyna informs us that you wish to recuperate on your own. What of _your wounds_? What am I saying, I should be chewing your ears off and giving you a piece of my mind. Nay, a _fourth_ of a piece of my mind for I will let you have the rest once I see you and you can be sure that you will put much distance between us from the fright I will bring to you. And I _promise_ you that I will give chase and give you more of my mind!”

Brown ears pressed to his head, the linkpearl going further into his ear. His tail wound around his leg as he hunched a bit and walked faster. Forget about making amends, he needed to beg for his life at this point.

“Incredibly worried, for if I were in your shoes, I would be calling non-stop and sprinting to your location--”

“Which I tried and was _turned away by the guard--_ ”

“--and I am sorry for that, Alisaie. Truly, I am. I deserve all of your rancor and more, I very much believe that.” He paced faster, already on his third lap around the large bathroom. “I know I should have called all of you or at least one of you to let you know of my condition. I was very wrong in keeping it a secret, especially with how things were just a few days ago--”

“ _Especially_ because of your condition! Yes, your soul has been mended and you brought back the night--permanently--but that does not excuse how you _blatantly_ ignored us and _refused_ to let anyone know of you! Or the Exarch!” He stopped at the name, finding himself against the empty tub. He sighed quietly, leaning against it. By the gods, she was furious… He knew that she was right and had full right to be so angry, and told her as such.

“You are right, Alisaie.”

“I know that I am right.”

“I… ” He closed his eyes, tilting his head up as he wrapped an arm around his middle and put his other elbow over his wrist. “I was not ignoring you all. Far from it. I knew that you all were in capable hands and that the healers of the Spagyrics would put you in better conditions than how you were before leaving the Crystarium.” He paused, the name being difficult to say. It felt _wrong._ “The Exarch is doing well. The wound on his back is healing, albeit slowly. He… was very weak when coming back, as we all saw, and it’s taking him a few days to regain his strength. He informed Lyna that I would care for him just as well as the chirurgeons could and let her know when he was well enough to leave the Tower.”

He expected the sister to immediately respond and was surprised by the silence. His eyebrows furrowed, fully sitting on the edge of the tub, idly rubbing at his right side. It didn’t ache, pleasantly enough, but it did itch, which was a good sign. He looked over at his pile of work, frowning slightly at how much more he had to do. Finally, there was a response.

“...I am relieved to hear all of that about the Exarch. That he is hale and healthy, that will bring many minds to rest. But… what of _your_ wounds?” He blinked at how quiet the last part came out, yet they softened from sensing her concern. It seems that he needed to be constantly reminded of how deeply the female Leveilleur cared for him, not that her brother cared less. Gods, how he wanted to hug them both and see their bright faces. If their bond wasn’t as strong back in the Source (which it certainly was), it definitely grew while in the First. He could see clearly in his mind how Alphinaud would bring his index finger up when saying something clever and how Alisaie would put her hand on her hip and roll her eyes from how her brother once again showed his maturity. 

“My wounds are doing well, I promise. They will heal slower than I thought, but that just means that I will need to take it easy and rest more, which I am. If anything goes wrong, I will go straight to the healers and let them handle my wounds. How does that sound?” He spoke softly, closing his eyes as he smiled warmly.

He heard the deep, relieved sigh clearly and he didn’t need to be there to know that she was smiling. It seems that the worst had passed and he was _somewhat_ forgiven. “I hope that you will keep your word. You fought harder than all of us and still, you made sure that we were all taken care of before yourself. Like you always do,” she slightly scolded and A’viloh chuckled.

“Of course. You know me, Alisaie. You do the same all the time. Now, how is your foot? I remember that you could barely walk on it.”

“Quite fine, thank you for asking. I am restricted from walking long distances but that won’t stop me from assisting whenever I can. There is more than enough to do here and I refuse to be idle while everyone else is running around.” His smile turned into a grin, knowing full well how…persuasive she could be, especially if she could help, within reason.

“Of course, of course. I know that everyone is incredibly appreciative of whatever help they can receive at this point in time. I only ask that you rest much, too.”

“You sound just like Chessamile and the other healers… ” Alisaie mumbled.

“Well, I _am_ a healer still, dear.” He chuckled, lightly tapping at the tub. He knew that the conversation was coming to a close, which he was grateful since he could soon begin washing his clothes, not that he was excited for such a thing.

Alisaie sniffed. “Trust me, how can I forget how thorough you are with your administrations. And as much as I would like to give you a full report of how the other Scions are doing, you will just have to find out yourself once you decide to leave that Tower.”

“I will find out as soon as I am able,” he laughed, pushing himself off and walked over to his still soaking wet clothes. ”I’ll let you get back to helping with whatever needs to get done. Oh, one last thing before I forget.”

“And what would that be?”

Brown eyes looked up at the ceiling, closing as he spoke. He needed to say this before the moment was entirely lost. She deserved these words and more, and he will be sure to say more once he saw her. They all did. “You fought just as hard, just as bravely, and with just as much strength as I did. If it were not for your aid along with the rest of the Scions, we would not be sharing this peace with all of Norvrandt. I am proud of you, Alisaie. Your grandfather would have been incredibly proud of you too. You followed in his footsteps and saved an entire realm by your own means. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.” Faint sounds of fabric going against skin could be heard and he knew that she was shedding tears. Not wanting to make her cry more and feel embarrassment, he wished her a good day and promised that she would be the first Scion he would see the moment he left the Tower. She could barely respond back, only able to acknowledge his words, croaked out a thank you, and wished him a good night.

"Good night…" He murmured. Had the day gone by that quickly? At least they were on the right cycle now. Maybe there was a way to tell when it was day or night other than his friend's chronometer.

….!

Rummaging through his bag, it took him a little while to find the small item, instead finding various wools, velveteens, silks, yarns, cloths, and other types of fabrics. After he was done with this he should organize his bag, it was an absolute mess. But first things first: finding that device. 

He finally found it under his laundry basket, pulling that out before running his thumbs through the screen to clean it: his trusty tomestone. Gods, he was incredibly grateful for the device the Ironworks made. It assisted him greatly with his crafting needs but also helped him accomplish an important task having to do with his personal life: reuniting with his sister.

He was taking a shot in the dark trying to find her through the adventurer database, but he had to try after he found out about the service. When he found only one person who had her name, it took him a few days to gather his courage and send her a message. What if she thought he was one of her fans? Or a stalker? Did she remember him? It had been _years_ since they last spoke. The last thing he did for her was send her off in that carriage with enough food for a week, some gil for the inn, and several wishes of good luck. She was appreciative of his gestures and comfort, but in the end, it was _her_ comforting _him_ and wiping away his many tears. He was always open with how much he loved her and she was too to where people always thought of them as a couple, which they always had to correct. They never minded having to explain, even when the Eorzeans thought of their relationship as strange. Instead of showing anger or irritation, they instead smiled and silently wished for their happiness while they (the Eorzeans) continued to rebuild themselves from the after effects of the Calamity.

He knew that they had to follow their own paths, grow in their separate talents and pursue specific wants. Wherever they ended up, he knew that she would be well, safe, and happy. Just like how she wished the same for him. The last touch they had was a bone-crushing hug, two kisses on each cheek, and the parting of their hands. Once he could no longer see the carriage or hear the wheels turn and the stomps of the chocobos, he left to board the ship that brought him to the place that started it all for him. It would be years later where he could remember the memory and not cry his heart out. Oh, how he missed her, she was all he had left in regards to actual family.

He had more family now and that gave him the final push to hit "Send" on his long message. He didn't check his tomestone for several days, drowning himself with several jobs to get his mind off that. When he finally did, he bursted into tears from the several messages he received. They were just how he expected them to be: the first ones being badly written and short with the ones after being longer and more carefully worded. She had even included a photo of herself to seal the deal. He couldn't stop himself from crying when he sent a photo of himself too, sending it after several attempts of writing through his tears. They chatted non-stop for many days after that, only taking breaks when duties took them away from their tomestones.

They learned that their journeys were very similar, _eerily identical_ they realized, and they swore to never say such a thing to anyone. He barely spoke about her to protect her, even if they were nowhere near each other. He didn't mind if she spoke about him, flushing every time she said she did. She was at least merciful in not telling him what she would say each time, though he knew that she glowed with each thing she would say.

After that, they would send each other a good morning and good night message, along with any other miscellaneous messages throughout the day. It wasn't uncommon when there were several days of inactivity between them, they were both very busy people after all. He had neglected to speak with her much during his time at the First, what with how much there had to be done along with his death experience(s). He had an inkling that she had gone through the same, dread settling into his heart the more he thought about it. He tried to turn on the phone but nothing happened. After a few more attempts, his shoulders sagged and pulled out a few lightning crystals and the "charging base" (as Biggs called it). He hoped that was all it needed to make it work, else he would need to sneak out and take it to the tomestone seller in the Markets.

Once all was set up, he pulled his sleeves up and got out his washing materials.

...

...And he forgot his portable orchestrion in the kitchen. Humming it was.

=====

It must have been the wee hours of the morning when he finished. He could have stopped at the sheets and do the rest tomorrow, but he was determined to do it all, lest his friend find the mess he left in the bathroom. Giving everything a quick look over, the sheets were long dry thanks to the wind shards he had put on them, and he set about putting everything away. He wondered about the other miqo'te, finishing up quickly and laying his bag beside the bedroom door before going into the lounging area.

The crystal illuminating the room was much dimmer than the bathroom, something that his eyes thanked profusely. There, he found his friend where he had left him, quite awake and engrossed with the current journal he was reading. Quietly walking over, he stood at one of his sides, seeing the stacks he had made, though not knowing how G’raha had arranged them. What the Warrior did know was that there were more items than what he gave him and them not being his. Various scrolls, books, and loose parchment paper surrounded him, the table being far too small to hold everything there and A'viloh itched to find him a bigger one. It could only hold the empty plate under the kettle (which he hoped was empty and the sandwich was to his liking), the empty tea cup, and two books (though he did notice one lying comfortably on his friend's lap). All in all, it was an organized mess. When G’raha had left to get more, A’viloh had no clue, but he imagined that he wouldn't have heard anyways from how consumed he was in his tasks, much like how his friend was.

There was no good way to get his attention without startling him, what with how deep his nose was in his journal (that seriously couldn't be good for his back, didn't it _ache_?), and so he acted on the best method that would startle the least; he just hoped that his friend didn't mind the contact, despite them having much of it over the last several days. His fingers lightly drummed his friend's shoulder, but they didn't react. Adding a bit more pressure, he knew that G’raha felt it from how A’viloh felt their arm twitch but instead turned the page and looked at the book on his lap, flipping a few pages. The Warrior needed to change tactics, it seemed.

'His hearing must still be gone. I'll give him another dose for good measure. Maybe I can clean his ears in the morning…'

Taking a deep breath, he walked to his other side, standing just behind the curtain of faded red hair and carefully sat down on the heels of his feet, his back protesting slightly. His hand very slowly tugged at the bottom corner of the book closest to him, not able to push back his amused smile when G'raha's hand shot out and quickly brought it back to the table, not lifting his head from the journal. At least that got a better response, so A'viloh tried again, this time having a better grip on the book as he slowly pulled it off the table. Again, G'raha's flesh hand shot out and went about bringing the book back but A'viloh persisted, grinning as a tug of war started. THAT finally made the leader look up and over, face to face with A'viloh's toothy grin.

Never had A'viloh heard G'raha yelp so loudly, almost tumbling out of his chair were it not for the Warrior wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady him back to his seat. Red eyes were as wide as plates, mouth agape as his cheeks flushed, not able to formulate a good enough response. A'viloh smiled apologetically, looking around as he found some crumpled parchment paper and wrote.

~I'm sorry, my friend. Believe me when I say that I tried to get your attention by other means, never did I wish to frighten you. It seems that you have been captivated by your latest reading, which I fondly remember when I had to strike deals with you in order to get you out of our tent to join us for meals.~

G'raha's cheeks reddened more, faint memories coming up of those times. The main difference between then and now is that he actually _was_ engrossed with the Warrior's journals, along with the supplemental items he brought to further understand their plights. Back then, he had been "engrossed" on purpose just so that the Warrior would come into their shared tent and think of witty ways to get him out. It was so _childish_ but those were some of the loveliest, if not utterly _embarrassing,_ moments he had with the Warrior. Gods, he was such a child. But he cared not for such trivial things if it meant spending more time with the Warrior outside of the expedition. He was absolutely infatuated with the Warrior and he hoped with all of his heart back then that he had concealed it well enough, even if he made a point that only the Warrior could succeed in getting him out of the tent from how G’raha “ignored” and “sent off” the researchers. No one should know of his crush over the heroic, dashing, kind, warm--

Focus, focus!

~Now, I know that you are quite entertained by the journal and other items, but it is getting late and you need to rest. You must be exhausted by now and I am sure that you will have no trouble falling asleep. Come, how about you put in place markers and continue tomorrow? I can make you some more tea and breakfast. I know I said I can't cook, but I -can- follow a cookbook and make eggs without burning them. How does that sound?"

He was striking a deal. Just like in the past.

If his heart wasn't ready to burst from how warm he was in reading so much about his Warrior, it certainly would now. He had read the first journal the Warrior wrote that had detailed his every adventure up until the terrible banquet. How he stepped off that boat in Limsa, meet the Scions, encountered the Ascians time and time again, formed relations with House Fortemps and Durendaire, aided the Alliance with infiltrating the Castrums, stopped the Ultima Weapon, assisted with the negotiations for the Doman refugees, battled against Lady Iceheart, and then that banquet…

He couldn't stop after that, needing to calm his racing heart and took to reading through the qiqirn brown journal. He remembered the Warrior being proficient with arcana arts, but never did he imagine that they would dabble in others, much less ones using physical combat. He had clear pictures in his mind when reading through the struggles the Warrior faced, some quite amusing and others downright dreadful. He purposefully left the arcanistic ones last and wasn't disappointed. He had some knowledge on the Scholarly side, though he pulled out books when the Warrior spoke about anything related to Nym or Mhachi, his memory fuzzy on that history.

The arcane had always interested him and he had dabbled in such arts many years ago when he realized that he had to become proficient in something other than the bow, his crystal hand making sure of that. But when he found that he was more interested in _reading_ the book (it had been a very basic one but held _so much_ knowledge) than conjuring spells with it, he begrudgingly opted for Conjury. Despite how much he wished he could have learned the Summoning arts, he set aside those childish thoughts to better prepare himself for the world that he had to help protect. It was later on that he studied the darker side of magicks, and then the purest forms of becoming a shield. He never regretted his decision, not when such arts assisted his people so much. But… a small, small part of him wished that he had something that he could relate to with the Warrior. Just a tiny part.

That's why when they went in-depth about their time with Y'mhitra, Dancing Wolf, and Principia, he was on the edge of his seat. Much of what the Warrior wrote, he knew, and made him all the more giddy. There was so much history that the Warrior was now a part of, he was at a loss of words from basking in such knowledge. They were much like himself, he realized. His heart swelled in joy at that similarity for he never, _ever_ thought that such a thing would ever happen. They were much greater than him, were a part of more circles, had more part in making history. They were just… so much more.

When he finished that journal, confusion took over him at a realization: nothing regarding the dark arts was mentioned. He flipped through it a couple of times, made sure that none of the pages were sticking, and even lightly shook the book, but nothing was there. A part of him hoped that such stories would be in the other journals, but something told him that it would be unlikely, the Warrior's words coming to mind of how there were certain stories that they preferred to keep to himself.

Was their journey relating to such a profession that secretive that they had to conceal it?

Admittedly, there was not much on the history regarding Dark Knights among his many books. It was true that they tried to fill the Tower with as many salvaged books as they could before they sent him off, but even they admitted that there was not enough time to bring more. There was mention here and there of the forbidden (taboo) art, yet he could clearly read the fear of it in the little he could find: such a history was hidden/forgotten on purpose.

He didn't dwell on the lack of that profession in his Warrior’s journal for long once he caught sight of the next journal: a large, slate gray book with Ishgard's city-state flag carved in the front. His fingers shook at the sight of it, able to clearly hear his blood in his ears as his heartbeat quickened. He almost wanted to bring the Warrior back, sit him down and hear from their lips of their time in Ishgard… until he remembered about his lack of hearing.

'Out of all the times…' he thought in despair, ears folding. This would have to do. It had to. He quickly went to get his most favorite book (of course he would never tell his Warrior that, how embarrassing), even if he had memorized it word for word, along with others that added more to the experience. True that he didn't _need_ it, but it didn't feel right to not have Heavensward with him. Thus did it sit comfortably on his lap as he read, just having reached where his Warrior had finished his ascent in Sohm Al when the very person came and started to tug at his other book.

A'viloh tilted his head, his friend staring at him, though not really _at_ him. He smiled slightly, writing more and angled his journal towards him to read better where his friend had left off. Tioman… Ah, Sohm Al. So much fire, ice, and comets. His right side ached with pseudo pain from remembering.

G'raha blinked a few times, seeing how the Warrior's eyes skimmed through the page and looked over at their writing journal.

~I can make something other than eggs. Pancakes? Or would you prefer yogurt with fruit?~

….

The deal! His mind has wandered so much that he forgot to answer. Gods, pay attention you stupid cat!

Placing his Warrior’s journal over his Heavenward book, he wrote as quickly and legibly as he could, refusing to write over such a precious piece of history.

~My apologies! I was so engrossed with your latest journal that my thoughts were still there. You can make whatever is easiest for you.

Please, do not worry about me. I have slept far too much and am wide awake. Should I need rest, a nap will suffice. Take up as much of the bed as you would like and do not worry about the lights. I apologize for how bright it was before, it must have been unbearable. Do not stay quiet about such things, I can freely adjust the lighting. I know that you do not like to "bother", yet that is no bother at all. As my healer, you should be just as comfortable as I.

In regards to the temperature in the Tower… I apologize greatly. That will take a bit longer to fix as I am still recovering. There are many blankets in the chest in the corner of my room, please do not hesitate to take as many as you need.~

His words were quickly read over, a slight frown on the Warrior's lips.

~You will do no such thing to the temperature. I am fine and will adjust. Better yet, I have plenty of clothes I can layer up on. If you need any, I can certainly let you borrow some. I'll make us something in the morning, though I have a feeling it will most likely be afternoon by the time I wake.

I'll trust you and leave you to your devices. Should anything happen, please, do not hesitate to wake me. Please.~

G'raha looked up when he finished, A'viloh looking straight into his red ones with a serious expression. He hid his hands more under the table, wrangling them a bit from the nerves and had to look away from the intensity. A small nod was all he could muster and A'viloh visibly relaxed. He tapped on his journal twice to get his attention, held up 5 fingers and left with the kettle and plate.

He returned not long after with a pink cushion, a thick blanket, the kettle filled with new hot tea, and a plate filled with some bread rolls along with different kinds of jams on the side. How the Warrior could balance all of that using only his two arms and hands, G’raha had no idea, eyes as wide as his tea saucer. The leader could only stare as he was poured another cup, the smell of spices, orange, and ginger filling his nostrils. He took a deep breath, the scent bringing his shoulders down while his tail thumped the chair once in content. A'viloh noticed how much that relaxed his friend, smiling warmly as he set the plate and kettle down. Tilting his head to the sides, he beckoned his friend with a light flick of his wrist. G'raha's ear flicked once, confusion clear on his face and A'viloh's smile warmed more. He beckoned again and his friend slowly got up from his seat, setting his Heavensward and his Warrior’s journal on the table, wondering what they had planned.

The Warrior worked quickly, setting the blanket on the metal chair (he really should be on the couch…), adjusted it a few times, and then looked over, patting the seat. To G'raha, it looked like he just wanted the chair covered for some strange reason, the cushion snug on the seat of the chair, but obliged and carefully sat back down, looking up at the Warrior for an answer.

Instead, the Warrior expertly pulled the blanket over his friend's shoulders, bunching it up more at the center of his back and lightly folded it over his lap. Once he was done, he took a step back and inspected his handiwork. The leader looked around himself, swallowing as he felt his throat closing up at the emotion welling up. He kept looking over, needing to compose himself else he would burst into tears.

The last time he was wrapped like this was… over 80 years ago when Lyna insisted that he needed a blanket too. He had wrapped her up in one when she refused to sleep in her room alone, swaddling her usually making her drowsy. Him cradling her always sealed the deal, but when she continued to fuss, he relented and let her bundle him up, the little Viera smiling brightly when she cheered at her accomplishment. In the morning, he found her curled up close to his side, only a pair of ears visible from her cocooned self. He really was getting old if he was getting sentimental over this.

Sniffling, he rubbed at his nose, subtly trying to wipe at his eyes afterwards. When he was sure that he wouldn't cry a river, he looked up, smiling weakly at the worried Warrior.

"You are far too kind, my friend," he whispered, not going into a coughing fit like last time. A'viloh's shoulders sagged in relief, one corner lifting up in a half smile.

~I want you to be comfortable. Now, I will leave you be and retire for the night. Again, if anything happens, no matter how small, wake me up, yes? Here is another dose of your ear medicine, pour it into your cup when the tea will not burn your throat and chug it down. I will inspect your ears once I wake, mayhap an ear cleaning will be in order.

Also, call it a hunch, but I have a feeling that you will still be here when I wake. Eat as many bread rolls as you like, there are more in the kitchen.

And with that, I wish you a good night.~

The corners of A’viloh’s eyes wrinkled from the wide smile he gave to his friend. G'raha's eyes shined with the tears that wanted to fall but he held them back, fisting the blanket that had begun to warm his lap. He didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve this.

"May your dreams be filled with joy and peace, my friend. Sweet dreams," he whispered, a tinge of… _something_ mixing in his words. A'viloh couldn't put his finger on it at that moment but let it be. Placing a small vile next to his friend’s tea cup, he gave G’raha a quick wave and walked out.

Once G'raha saw the door closed, he turned back to the table of goodies in front of him. He reached for the nearest roll, his fingers immediately warming up.

‘He warmed up the rolls…’ Swallowing thickly, he felt his snot go down his throat as he chanted in his mind to not let his tears fall.

Breaking it into pieces, he dipped it in some jam (strawberry?) and took a bite out of it. It was too much for him, his will leaving him with each bite as he silently cried, sniffing each time he felt his nose run.

He had warmed up the rolls, bundled him up, brought him more tea, and gave him a cushion…

He didn't deserve this.

=====

A'viloh sighed deeply when he finished cleaning up the kitchen, Hop and Hubs having left long ago. They hadn't left too much of a mess but he couldn't leave everything how it was.

Drying his hands, he left the kitchen, gave one quick look over his armor and went about putting the covers on G'raha's bed. His entire body ached from the position he was in for hours, his shoulder almost becoming unbearable but he ignored it, along with the rumble of his belly. He was going straight to bed and that was the end of it, hunger and pain be damned.

He barely put the extra blankets on the bed, dragging himself on top of them and simply rolled to cover himself up. He reached for a pillow, his head just about on the corner of it and let his body fully mold to the mattress. His Wind-up Moon dimly illuminated the room, a sprig of lavender under his nose and the last thought he had was how he forgot to wash himself.

=====

He couldn't concentrate. 

No matter how much he re-read the current paragraph, he couldn't concentrate. After the fifth reading, he sighed deeply, putting a place marker on the books. The last words that he said to his Warrior rang in his head, disturbing him more than he thought.

_‘May your dreams be filled with joy and peace, my friend… Sweet dreams…’_

A variation of those words were the last thing he remembered when he went into slumber in Eorzea. Whether the Tower had said them to him, he imagined it in his mind, imagined _his Warrior_ saying them to him in his mind, he did not know. All that he _did_ know was that they made his body cold, filled his heart with dread, and kept his mind in a state of panic.

Sweet dreams, sweet dreams…

He didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to stay in the Tower. He wanted _out._

Bundling the blanket to him, he nearly knocked the chair to the floor as he quickly stood and dashed out the room.

Out, out, out.

He paid attention to his footsteps, the walls blurring too much as he left the Ocular, going down, down, down. The space around him blurred further, memories of how he traversed the same flights of stairs and various portals for many years, keeping check of as much of the Tower as he was able, and no longer seeing them when he left to take care of business. He made sure to not come back for days if it meant leaving his cell walls. The feeling lessened the longer he was in the First but sometimes, sometimes it was too much for him. Like now.

Once he reached the massive doors, he put his hands on them and began to push… until he felt a presence on the other side.

The guard. Oh gods, how could he forget the guard. They couldn't see him like this, disheveled and panicked. They will ask questions and Lyna will find out--

He pulled the door shut as slowly as he could without slamming it, already panting. He needed out, he needed out, he needed out, outoutout--

…The throne. That was outside. That was out.

He didn't think twice, full on sprinting back up and into the various portals, the elevator being his goal. He bundled the blanket to his throat, but was too heavy and reminded him of the cowl he wore as he left House Fortemps manor, the rumbling of the ceiling--

_Pat, pat, pat, bang, bang, bang_

He threw himself to the elevator, slapping the gated device as it opened, not bothering to flick his wrist to ascend and instead covered his ears, forehead pressed to the metal cage as the walls shook around him.

_It was so loud._

As soon as he smelled the crisp night air, he practically ripped the door open, tripping over his feet as he ran out to the center. Laughter bubbled in his throat, letting it out as he landed on his knees, still panting as he looked up at the black sky.

Stars. There were so many stars. So, so many beautiful stars. And the moon, only a sliver of it showing but it illuminated everything around him. And how the Tower glowed. Had it… had it always glowed like this?

He paid no mind to his burning eyes as he let the cold air wrap around him, his breathing slowly steadying. His crystal ached and his knees burned, but he dared not stand. Just a little bit more, just a little longer…

He was free. And he could think of the one person that always made him right, that always calmed his mind, and brought him peace.

"Oh, my Warrior…" He whispered helplessly.

His Tower was so bright around him, but his Warrior--

"How bright _you_ always are… You bring so much light and warmth to those around you. Do you know that? Do you know how much… how much you _are_? Your worth…?"

He closed his eyes, his tears soaking his shirt and making him colder from the wind. His crystal arm pulsed with pain, cradling it to his chest. It wasn’t real, he was imagining it.

"All of this, _you_ made it happen. The joy and peace my people feel, _you_ did this. Do you know that? Do you know how much joy you bring them? ...Of how much joy you bring to me?" He choked out, fresh tears spilling out.

"How I wish that I can show you… Of my joy, of how you are in my thoughts, of how much I care for you and _want you to be happy._ How much… how much I… I…"

He wept as strongly as how his heart ripped through his protective walls, trying to wipe away his tears as he pressed his face into his trembling hands. "How much I love you…"

"How I love you, how I love you, how _I love you_ …"

His heart was so full but it filled him with so much pain. Love. That was what fueled him. His love for the Warrior was what gave him strength for a century. It gave him all that he needed to continue with his plan as the Warrior wilted. It pained him so much to see his Warrior suffer and how they continued as if nothing was wrong. They were so strong, stronger than he ever could be, and he would have taken their pain in a heartbeat if he could. He _tried_. With the Gods as his witness, _did he try_.

He loved them. And he had to let them go. Their role here was done, his part finished.

“For the battles to come and the wars yet unwon…” he whispered, that memory tearing out a strangled sob after.

_‘You are too important to me. Far, far too important.’_

He laughed hollowly, wiping away his remaining tears. He was important to the Warrior because of the G’raha at the Source, not because of the Crystal Exarch.

_'Tis good to see you awake, G'raha Tia.'_

'But… they said my name… They remembered…’

_‘...But I will come back. I have to come back. I want… I want to come back to you, G’raha. You are too important to me. Far, far too important. You made the choice to slumber--now I am making the choice to stay--with you. I want to stay with you.’_

"I have to… I have to let them go… They must return back to the Source… They must… For the battles to come and… the wars yet unwon..."

_‘What would you like for me to call you?’_

“They must go… They must...”

_‘I would like for you to think through it and firmly answer me when you have decided.’_

He could feel them whilst at the top of the Tower.

When they leave, he will no longer be able to.

When they leave… 

He clamped his mouth shut as he full-body shuddered, eyes shut tight as he let out a sob. He can’t hold back, he can’t, he can’t, hecanthecanthecant-

“I want them to stay. I am selfish… so very selfish… I want them to stay… ”

He wanted to see them. Just a peek. One quick peek and he will leave them be.

The sun was beginning to rise when he calmed himself enough to start the descent. He was so cold, his body shaking the whole way down from the Tower being colder than outside. He found his blanket in front of the main floor, sheepishly picking it up and setting it next to his door. His hearing had not returned, so he needed to be as slow and quiet as possible. He knew that the doors did not creak, so he dimmed the crystal walls behind him and popped his head in. His room was dimly lit by the miniature moon high on the ceiling, allowing him to clearly see the bundle on his bed. The Warrior was in such an awkward angle, he couldn’t see their face. A part of him reminded himself that he said a peek, and this was enough. But a larger part wished to see his face, that want making his body move closer. Slowly, he stepped around the bed, the Warrior’s face slowly appearing.

They were bundled from head to toe in several blankets, an arm out and snug on the pillow under his head. Though they were fast asleep, their face was not of peace. They looked almost pained, eyebrows scrunched up and frowning. Were they having a bad dream?

He debated whether or not to wake them, his hand hovering over their shoulder. The longer he waited, the longer their expression stayed. Perhaps they were in pain? He looked over the many blankets but found nothing on them, his tail winding around his leg in agitation.

He had hesitated for too long, A’viloh’s eyes slowly opening, much to G’raha’s horror. He took a few steps back, hoping that he would be out of view and that they would go back to sleep. Unfortunately for him, mismatched brown eyes followed him, bleary eyes coming to focus.

“No, no, p-please, go back to sleep. I was… I was simply trying to get another book. I apologize for waking you,” came G’raha’s hushed lie, his tail winding more around his leg. His ears flicked once, almost pinning down but they went back to normal. A’viloh groggily took notice of that, doing the opposite and sitting up. Pain instantly seared his right side, wincing as he bit down a hiss, rubbing it lightly. That’s what he got for going to bed without meds.

G’raha instantly sat down on the bed from seeing A’viloh’s face, immediately in high alert. His fingers twitched, wanting to heal his wounds but refrained, instead asking in rough whispers, “Are you in pain? Did the wound re-open?”

“Just a tad of pain, nothing to worry about,” A’viloh murmured, prodding a bit to feel where the pain was worse. G’raha saw his friend’s lips move, but he could barely understand him, though… though he did hear something. Or was it his imagination?

“I… I am sorry, my friend… I still cannot hear. Let me get some parchment paper and quill--” A’viloh’s hand was over his friend’s left hand before he could start moving, lightly patting it and looked up to give him a reassuring smile. Yet, as he kept patting, his smile slowly faded and looked down, fully taking hold of it.

“You’re freezing… Nevermind me, are you alright? Was that blanket not enough?” G’raha wondered if A’viloh could feel his thundering heartbeat, eyes wide from his hand being warmed up by both of the Warrior’s. They gently massaged heat back into it, A’viloh giving G’raha a good look-over. Their left arm was full of goosebumps, the front of their shirt was a deeper color, and their cheeks looked wet and flushed. Maybe he was seeing things, but his right arm… was there morning dew on it? Or was it his aether…?

He shuffled a bit closer, eyes filled with worry as he began to question, but stopped. Instead, he tapped at his cheeks and his shirt, letting his face do all the talking.

_“What happened?”_

G’raha leaned back slightly, right hand coming up to touch his own cheeks and then his frigid shirt, mentally cursing himself at feeling both wet. Even his fingertips had precipitation.

“I am fine, my friend. I accidentally spilled some tea on me and have been trying to pull back my yawns too much,” he lied again. A’viloh was having none of that and his eyes showed it. He looked at G’raha’s ears for a long moment before he tapped on his own, never looking away. G’raha blinked in confusion, mimicking the gesture but before he could ask, A’viloh swiftly got close enough to whisper in his ear.

“If you would like to keep it to yourself on why you were crying, I will not pester. I only ask that you come to bed and continue your readings tomorrow.”

Come to bed. That is… only a… a… no, no. His thoughts wandered too wildly, stopping himself before they went into places that they shouldn’t.

His Warrior… he was so close. Too close. Surely they can hear his heartbeat _now_. Could he see his blushing cheeks? Was he breathing too hard? This shouldn’t be happening, they shouldn’t be this close--

\--wait. He heard them. He heard them…! It was faint, but he heard them! His joy was enough to turn his head and smile at the revelation--until he saw again how close the Warrior was to him. He was close. He was so close. Just a little more and he could, he could almost--

A’viloh abruptly moved back, disentangling himself from the many blankets. G’raha was still looking ahead, ruby eyes wide as a myriad of emotions flowed through them. He shivered not from the cold, but from the moment that could have been. He had felt their breath on his lips, he only had to open his mouth to breathe the same air as them.

He was tugged out of his thoughts by a literal tug, jolting as his sleeve was pulled. He looked at the Warrior’s hand, then at the sheets and the two pillows.

**Sleep.**

A’viloh laid down on the pillow farthest from the edge, patting at the space next to him. When his friend finally looked at him, he smiled again with reassurance, bringing the blankets up in invitation.

**Sleep… with me.**

He shouldn’t. He didn’t want to sleep.

No, he didn’t want to sleep _alone_. But he wouldn’t be alone. The Warrior, his Warrior, they would be there. They won’t leave when they wake, right? His knees shuffled closer to his spot, A’viloh having warmed the sheets enough for him to shiver at the warmth. He got close enough to where the Warrior brought them down and tucked him in, but G'raha made full sure to face away from him. If he looked at him, he knew that he would lay bare his heart. How he desperately wanted to. Just like how he was laying next to his Warrior, he wanted his heart in between them, maybe, maybe even clutched close to his. Would they be in sync? The thought brought so much bliss to him, he started to drift off, ruby eyes sliding shut as he tucked his hands under him to warm them up faster. His crystal ached so much less...

A’viloh’s eyes closed once he felt the slow breathing of his friend, keeping his distance, though his fingers twitched from want. G'raha's hands were so cold, he could feel how cold his entire body was from where he was. And his right arm and hand... If only he could warm him up better.

If only he could listen to him more.

If only he could do more for him.

Tomorrow. He will show him tomorrow. He needed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmm, I wonder what A'viloh will do next chapter :3 What will he show G'raha? Seems like he has a lot on his mind, just as much as G'raha did in this chapter. I hope that I will be able to post that last chapter sooner than later, I don't want to leave you all in suspense for too long ^^;;
> 
> It is my hope that I will be able to showcase more of the NPC's in future chapters, even if it takes me a while to write about them! They all have such unique personalities, so there are lots of possibilities that can be written! And I hope that you all enjoyed the little tidbit with Alisaie ^^
> 
> Okie dokie, time for the content creators! Same format as before, one author and a couple of artists, though this time, I chose three artists!
> 
> Starting with the author, I am sure that many, MANY of you know about this absolutely incredible author. They have written so, so much in so many years that it would take several weeks to get through all of their creations. And let me tell you, every single one of their works is a-ma-zing. I can only speak about one from there being so many but believe me when I say, all of what they have written, your attention will immediately be captivated. The author is KivaEmber with their work, "Down Into Paradise" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/19849609/chapters/47005111) which is a part of their extensive Wine Cellar series. I love every. single. chapter in this series. They are one of the very few authors that I will read works that speak about Hades, Hythlodaeus, and/or their version of the Fourteenth Convocation member. But they write about other NPC's in this series, not just the Ascians, rest assured. Their G'raha one-shots are adorable and also incredibly loving. In other works in the Wine Cellar series, they write extensively about their WoL and their relationship with Aymeric and just ahhhhh... I can go on and on about how incredible they are as an author and how amazing their works are. Please, please, please give them a chance and if you have already, re-read what they have written! They have written a work that will touch on people love to read, I can guarantee that!
> 
> As for the artists, I have chosen three from them not having many works in their Twitter, but what little they have, they are amazing! They are @ Hosing__FF14, @YIDR7X_FFXIV, and @ffxivys! The first one has such adorable artworks of G'raha, they're enough to melt anyone's heart. They're enough to make anyone want to give their art a hug and their screenshots are so, so good too! The second one has beautiful drawings of G'raha, some a bit risky while others are absolutely breathtaking. The third artist has more screenshots and videos than artwork, the first two being quite funny at times, while the artwork is quite stunning (https://twitter.com/ffxivys/status/1229148147802238976). Please look at all of these lovely artist's creations, you will definitely not be disappointed! ^^
> 
> Again, thank you so, so much for all of the kudos and comments that you all have left for this series. It really does mean the world to me and every morning when I check my emails, seeing those notifications always bring so much joy to my heart. Thank you so very much for all of them, you all are amazing. The next chapter will be the grand finale to this work, so I hope very much that many of you will return for it. I hope even more that it will live up to your guy's expectations but most of all, that it will bring as much joy as this series has brought to me in all of the time that I have worked on it.
> 
> Please stay safe, stay healthy, and be well ^^


	11. ...You to Call Me By My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'Because you are. We both know how much he has given himself for you. How much he has sacrificed so that you could still be here. So you could_ live. _If I have to deal with your childish dance for one more day,_ **I will end you myself __** _.'_
> 
> "I… seem to have forgotten to give you a journal. I am not sure how much you have read in any of them, they are not all that interesting--"
> 
> _‘Is that what you want?’_ They could never go back to how they were. He was the Crystal Exarch and he was the Warrior of Light/Darkness. That was who they were. That was who they had to be. At least… that was who he was.
> 
> _Yes. His body would always say yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s a wrap! -clicks clapperboard-
> 
> Another chapter done, and just in time for the new week, if you see Sunday as the start of the week ^^ Not just any chapter, but the last chapter to this fic. I am sure that you all have been waiting for the conclusion to this fic for quite some time, more so for when these two will finally realize what the other feels. And I can finally say with certainty, they do ^^
> 
> I will keep this brief so that you all can start reading! I have updated the Table of Contents to this fic with my thanks and after thoughts, so please make sure to check it out as it contains important info to the series as a whole! I will still mention content creators in the end and gush about them like I always do, so please also stick around for that!
> 
> Please enjoy!! ^^

_'Wake up.'_

_'If you want your plan to work, wake_ **up __**_before I send you flying.'_

'I 'eard you. Lem'… get sum feelin'...'

How _early_ did Esteem wake them? He felt like a hoard of goobbues sat on him, and there was even hair at the bottom of his chin--

_'You're in_ bed. _How the hell would a snot-filled mongrel get under the covers without waking you?'_ It had been a while since Esteem had argued with him in the morning, both always too incoherent to make much sense of the other. This time, they were more awake than him, which always meant that something was up.

_'Bingo. Don't move or else you'll wake him. You were so dead that you didn't feel him toss and turn. He settled down once he got near you. Guess you're the stuffed toy he needs for bed.'_

Near him… Stuffed toy… Ah, he did feel warm breathing on his chest. And the tickle on his chin… No wonder Esteem told him not to move. Slowly, his eyes opened, blinking a few times and glanced down at the frizzie mop of hair. His ears… they needed a good brushing. He wished dearly that they could stay like this, but he knew that his friend couldn't wake up to this. They would be mortified or worse, put more distance between them, something that brought ice to A'viloh's veins.

_'...So then, you've realized?'_

A'viloh closed his eyes. 'How can I not when he looks at me like I am his world.'

_'Because you are. We both know how much he has given himself for you. How much he has sacrificed so that you could still be here. So you could_ live. _If I have to deal with your childish dance for one more day,_ **I will end you myself __** _.'_

A'viloh exhaled sharply, lips quirked up. How unfortunate for him.

_'Now start moving away from him.'_

He obliged, slowly inching away. It took him a good while to get far enough so that he could sit up without shifting the bed. His friend was a light sleeper it seemed, him stirring here and there whenever he moved an inch too much. He sighed quietly once he could move better on the bed, sliding off and landing on his knees. His moon was still high on the ceiling and he left them there as he grabbed his bag and tiptoed out of the room.

He entered the bathroom, finding the room as brightly lit as how he left it. Checking over his armor, nothing had been touched and was thankfully dry, the crystals and shards long disintegrated. Brown ears perked up when he saw his tomestone next to his boots, praying that it still worked as he turned it on. One of the Twelve must have listened, the screen lighting up moments after. He set it down on his shirt, letting it “boot up” (or so he remembered Cid telling him). Now was as good a time as ever to give himself a well-deserved shower, taking off his shirt.

Or so he thought. As soon as he took off the bandages, he groaned at how open the wound still was. It wasn’t pussing over, thank the Twelve, but he still needed some good salve on it and more bandages. From the looks of it, it would still take some good days for it to fully heal, even with daily magick. There were some grotesque looking bruises all around his torso, many that would give cause for alarm to poor Chessamile and the other chirurgeons, but they were nothing new to him; such was the life of a knight. His shoulder was looking much better, the hole looking a healthy pink and closing much quicker than he expected. So then THAT salve worked better for that wound, which means that he would need to use another for his side. He made a mental note of writing all of this down on his medical journal, looking over at the grand bath with some weariness.

‘It should work like an ordinary bathtub… right?’

=====

Either the bath was broken or he clearly did not know how to work this Allagan one. No matter how much he turned the faucets and looked around for other openings, nothing would come out of it. It also looked pristine, the inner crystal borders spotless, the gold surface without blemish. He dared not touch it further in fear of breaking it. The gold shower stand, however, was in good working conditions. The water was as cold as the Tower, but some fire crystals and clusters warmed it up quick when he filled his laundry basin, bless his lucky stars (though if that didn’t work, he would make do with the Tower’s wash basin, even if it did take forever and some ingenuity to fill it up).

_‘You should have used the shower stand instead of the wash basin yesterday. I have no idea why you like to make your life so complicated.’_

‘It was double duty. While it filled up, I was getting rid of the negative aura. Nothing complicated.’

Both knew that the Warrior didn’t want to admit that he genuinely didn’t notice the _obvious_ shower stand and was too stubborn to admit it, but they didn’t need to mention it.

Just like how Esteem did not mention that fact, A’viloh stayed quiet when he pulled out the various toiletries that he carried around through his adventures. His moody friend always had something to say at how much he carried in his bag, stating that the city-states always had the necessities for adventurers, the Crystarium being no different, but A’viloh never listened. They never knew when they had to suddenly be on the go and a simple soak was _never_ enough. The bathroom was barren, no sign of life available aside from the faucet, shower, and normal sized toilet.

There were certain spots that he unfortunately couldn’t reach with his sponge, resigning himself to half-washing and cleaned up quickly after. He left the bathroom how he found it, worrying about mending his armor at another date. There was peace at the moment to grant him such a luxury.

He struggled to put some new bandages on, paying no mind to how loose they were and put on the same shirt from it being clean enough. Leaving the frigid room, he took a quick detour and silently popped his head into the bedroom, listening for several seconds to his friend’s quiet breathing. He had a feeling if he stepped in that they would wake up, instead watching for any signs of discomfort and aether disturbance. When he found none, he left the door slightly ajar and instructed his nightlight to slowly dim down and disappear once they could no longer keep themselves up, reassuring that his friend wouldn’t mind a darkened room.

He knew that he should eat some type of breakfast, but his nerves were getting the better of him. This was the perfect opportunity to put his plan in motion as well as find what had upset his friend so much.

The lounging area was again slightly dimmer than the bathroom, the same amount of books still in the room. He briefly turned a few pages in his journal, finding it still on the entry of Sohm Al. The other book was just where G’raha had left it after their little tug of war, and another book was under it. It looked heavily used, the pages more weathered than all of the other books around the small table. The brown panels looked familiar to A’viloh, not able to put his finger on where he had seen it before. Hesitantly, he picked it up, turning it around and froze when the cover revealed itself. There was no mistaking the gold-like etchings at the corners and center, “Heavensward” clearly embroidered in the front.

This… this was the same book in his vision.

“That vision… this was his book… ” A’viloh whispered, his hands starting to shake. Which meant that the vision back then… 

‘It was of his past. It was… during the Eighth Umbral Calamity.’ His mouth felt as dry as the Sagolii Desert, a foul taste on his tongue. Sour, acidic, burning…

Shakingly, he set the book down, tilting it to how he found it. His mind wandered to how things were just close to a week ago: the light burning, his vision blurry, his lungs on fire, his soul cracking--

_‘It’s not anymore. You’re whole.’_ A’viloh swallowed, running a hand through his wet locks. He did it a few times, goosebumps appearing on his arms and the action calmed him enough to bring his panic down. He was whole, he had no more light, he was fine. Bruised, injured, and tired, but he was alive.

_‘You both are. Now get comfortable and start writing.’_ Writing. Right, his plan. Journals, puzzle, writing.

He slowly walked to the cushion where his journals laid, stacking them on the floor and took a seat. His back was going to kill him for this, though he knew the outcome would be worth it. At least, he hoped--

_‘Pull out your_ damn _journal, get everything in place and start writing, or else I will make you_ wish _that I was the one killing your back.’_ He smiled faintly, brought his bag closer to the edge of the couch and rummaged for his materials. They just wanted the best for him, he knew that. And he wasn’t going to let this moment run away from him. Not again.

‘Some part of me wishes that you would, Esteem. That is simpler than what I must do.’

He set his ink pot between his sore thighs, pulling out his tattered quill and settled it in his hair. It didn’t take him long to pull out the parchment paper that he needed, carefully placing the good size of written loose stack by his right foot and clean sheets on his left. On his lap laid a sky blue journal with a golden etched Crystal Tower on the front, fingers idly tracing it.

‘Stay with me…?’

_‘...Of course. I will always be with you.’_

=====

His darkside and himself agreed on not continuing his latest journal after the mild panic attack the Warrior got from reading where he left off. It was too soon to remember. He prayed to the Twelve that what he had would be enough.

Instead, he skimmed through his journal and placed the markers that would aid his plan. He didn't have to read much, having read it so many times before he went into the outskirts of the Tower to find the beacon. Back then, he suspected that he had missed something when the mysterious voice told him about the item and how he had to go back to the Tower. Despite the amount of pain that this journal brought him, as if three sleepless nights wasn’t enough of an indication after hiding it away for years after he forced himself to finish it, he fervently analysed his treasure in hopes of finding answers. Instead of finding them, it reminded him of the person that opened his eyes to a world not always black and white. Obliviously, he believed the Crystal Exarch when he asked if the red-haired miqo’te was in the Tower the moment the structure came into the conversation. 

With an embarrassed smile at remembering how easily he was duped, he placed the last marker on the blue journal, carefully placing his treasure on the blue marble floor. He glanced over the remaining loose parchment paper, tail thumping against the cushion in thought. To put away or use more of them…

Brown ears perked up when he heard the click of the door, another choice appearing to him. He subtly nudged his journal out of view, glancing at the loose parchment to make sure that they were stacked enough to where they wouldn’t fall. His friend honed in on him and A’viloh gave him a welcoming smile. The events from the night before came to mind, but he pushed them aside, sticking to his words. They would speak whenever they felt ready, if they ever would, even if worry gnawed at the Warrior’s stomach. They came in, A’viloh noticing the blanket they had last night around their shoulders along with a plate of food in their hand as the other clutched the blanket close. Ah, it was still pretty chilly in the Tower, wasn’t it.

They halted when they saw the parchment and ink pot nestled in the Warrior’s thighs, quill in hand. “Ah, my apologies, I did not realize that you were busy,” G’raha started. He went as far as the table, looking over at the mess. “I will not keep you. I was not sure if you had eaten yet and so I thought it best to bring some breakfast.”

A’viloh’s smile turned small from noticing his friend avoid his gaze, eyes softening. He held no grudge, knowing full well how his friend felt. He will continue to be reassuring and patient. He stayed seated, laying the dry quill on his lap as he took a deep breath.

“Actually, I just finished. Tell me, how is your hearing and voice?” He asked, making sure to keep his voice at a good volume. He noticed how G’raha’s ears swiveled towards him but did not turn his head. Red eyes glanced at him before he set the plate on the chair, having a smile that was the same as the Exarch would normally have. Polite, kind, but keeping a distance. He started closing the nearest book, his fingers gentle with the movement. The gentleness caught A’viloh’s attention, crystal fingers twisting here and there.

“My voice has almost fully come back, all thanks to your medicine. My hearing is getting better, though it still feels as if there are cotton bolls in my ears.” He slowly stacked his books, him carefully turning Heavensward so that it laid face down.

A’viloh’s eyes never left G’raha’s fingers, moving slightly to the edge of the couch. He swallowed down the emotion festering deep within him as he kept his easy smile. “Cotton bolls, you say?” Taking a chance, he looked up to G’raha’s face. “Would you mind if I examined your throat and ears again today?”

G’raha continued to clean the table using his crystal hand, still clutching the blanket to him. If he minded, he made no show of it. “Of course I would not mind. You have come this far to treat me, it would be foolish to not let you,” he spoke nonchalantly. His fingers momentarily hesitated over A’viloh’s journal before he brought the blanket higher to his shoulders, using both hands to close it and set it aside. A’viloh’s eyes widened at how delicately he did so, keeping his eyes on G’raha’s face but not exactly paying attention. It would all be over if he did.

“However, if I can make a request, it is for you to have breakfast first and for us to clean your wounds after. Then we can worry about my ailments.” The way the word “us” fell out of G’raha’s lips, it was enough to make A’viloh swallow again. His friend had hesitated, recovering quickly enough that no one would have noticed if they weren’t paying such close attention to him, unlike A’viloh, who was fully honed in on G’raha’s every movement and word.

‘Twelve give me strength to see this through.’ 

Taking a silent breath, the same easy smile came again, crossing his arms around his middle as he leaned forward more. A single word came to mind, his lips forming around it at the end.

“Is that what you want?”

A more noticeable hesitation with an even quicker recovery. His hands lingered on the journal, brows furrowing slightly before his face relaxed, fully looking at A’viloh now. Though his eyes showed confusion, his smile remained, though it did falter slightly.

"If I did not, then I would not have said so, yes? Though… is there something else that you would like to do before?"

Nerves were starting to get the better of him. A’viloh didn't want to push, but… he knew. Something was missing. Things were wrong. Everything was too tense. There were too many things unspoken. He didn't like to push or prod unless absolutely necessary, preferring for trust to first build up. But… G’raha trusted him, right? If they didn't, then they wouldn't have gone to such lengths for such an elaborate plan to happen. G’raha trusted him just as much as A’viloh trusted his family, perhaps even more. He just needed to--

_'--have courage.'_

Unbeknownst to him, G'raha was starting to get nervous too from how intensely he was being stared at. Had he overstepped his bounds? Did he say too much? His Warrior was on the edge of their seat, hugging--clutching?--his midsection. He was in pain, he must have been. But, he didn't look like it. He seemed as if he had more to say. G'raha twitched when A'viloh finally moved, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"Nay… I will eat first and we can tend to my wounds after. Though, I too have a request." G'raha pulled the blanket over his tense shoulders again, the heavy fabric coming down slightly. The Warrior was still pensive, unfolding his arms from his middle and slowly rubbed his thighs, as if to bring some warmth. He must be freezing, G'raha still cold despite having a thick blanket. Then again, they were both without shoes and their sleepwear wasn't exactly very warm.

"If… it is within my power to grant it, then please, tell me." He spoke slowly, shakingly clutching the blanket closer to his neck. He fully tensed himself for a moment, his trembling stopping. If the Warrior had noticed, they made no sign of it.

Instead, their eyes softened. Significantly. His tail curled up on his lap, him clasping the tip of it and lightly stroking it. His ears drooped, an apologetic smile appearing as he spoke.

"I… seem to have forgotten to give you a journal. I am not sure how much you have read in any of them, they are not all that interesting--"

"They are." G'raha was more shocked than A'viloh at how abruptly he had interrupted the hero. His cheeks colored, looking apologetic at having done such a rude gesture but he pressed on, needing to look away before his nerves got the better of him.

"I-I apologize for…" Shaking his head, he tried again. He should have felt bad interrupting, but he actually didn't. "They are… very interesting. Fascinating, actually." Slowly, he relaxed and a shine took his eyes.

Speaking more comfortably, he continued. "Your adventures… I… I-I am honored that you wished to share them with me. _Never_ in my wildest dreams (which was a lie, for he had wished for such a thing for quite some time) did I imagine that I would have a chance to know about them from your perspective. And how you tell them…!"

There it was. That shine. Twelve, how he _glowed._ It was blinding.

G’raha glowed because of _him._ What made him shine and happy and _free_ was _him._

"I kn--had heard that you were an incredible healer, but to think that you were just as incredible in alchemy, and, and with a needle and thread! Those lists, just how many clothes for the children in the Brume have you _made_ \--"

A'viloh's smile warmed, tail coming off his lap as he stood and walked to the table, taking the plate off the seat and guiding G'raha to sit on it as he sat on the floor next to his friend, answering his question on the lists--enough clothes to have at least two outfits, for one will always be drying from how much the kids played outside, and a coat when the weather was brutal.

"Two outfits… That is a lot of cloth and wool… W-Wait!" G'raha’s body swiveled to his left, noticing where the Warrior was and instantly stood up in panic. "Please, do not sit on the floor! Come sit on the chair, I am more than able--ah!"

A'viloh smiled brightly, fork stabbing more of his eggs as he had just used it to give G'raha a light poke on the leg. He put the fork in his mouth and tugged on the bottom of his friend's pants twice, chewing and swallowing before he answered. 

"I am fine on the floor, and I prefer you on the chair. Tell me, how many of my journals did you finish? Did you read about Surito and Prim?" G'raha hesitantly settled back down, feeling quite off at looking _down_ than up when addressing someone. Plus, the Warrior should be on the chair more than him…

A'viloh gave him a reassuring smile when he saw how unsure G'raha was, crossing his legs as the fork clinked. "If I am feeling uncomfortable, we can move to the kitchen. Plus, I am quite enjoying these eggs. You added seasoning, yes?"

G'raha's cheeks colored again, looking away as he brought the blanket higher above his shoulders. "Y-Yes. I-It is not too much, I hope…?"

A'viloh hummed as a negative, filling his cheeks more. He smiled joyfully up at the leader, making a point by over stuffing his cheeks. G'raha couldn't stop himself from letting out a noise at seeing the chipmunk hero, coughing slightly to mask his laugh.

"A-Ah, yes, I did read about Surito and Prim. I will admit, I was not expecting the history of Allagan summoning to be told through a talking book…"

Thus did the moment turn comfortable again. A'viloh listened attentively, finishing his breakfast at a slower pace and vowed to spruce up some lunch (or would it be dinner?) for the day. He answered whatever questions came his way to the best of his ability, standing up and leading his friend to the washroom with his bag in hand when his side tickled. He didn't let the conversation stop when G'raha noticed their destination, A'viloh urging him to continue as he pulled out another set of fresh bandages and the same salve.

"So then, before your brother and sisters went against… Theobald, was it, you assisted them with their training?" He stood close to A'viloh, helping him unwrap the new bandages. He made no mention of them, though A’viloh had no idea if G’raha could tell that the Warrior had tried to work on his wounds without the leader knowing.

"Theobald… Now that's a name that I didn't expect to hear again," A'viloh chuckled, stretching a bit as he was finally free from those lopsided bandages. He rubbed at the skin where it itched the most, refusing to do more.

"I watched over their training more than assisted, really. Those were a grueling three days. We didn't eat at all during that time and I drank more water than I ever have in such a short amount of time. It was incredibly hot and Widargelt refused to train in the shade," A'viloh groaned, his body warming up from remembering the extreme heat on his back and shoulders. Both were sunburned for two weeks and he vowed to never be under the sun for over two hours unless he had sunscreen on him. Or a shirt over his back.

G'raha's eyes widened, coming around A'viloh and asked in shock, "Three days without food?" A'viloh nodded, turning on the wash basin and soaping his hands before handing the bar to G'raha.

"Mm-hm. No matter how much I told them that food was just as important, all three refused and we all slept on the floor once they had completely ten thousand of whatever-it-was for that day." G'raha dried his hands, holding the jar of salve as A'viloh started to clean his wound. The leader couldn't look at the wound without a sick feeling filling him up inside, instead looking at the wash basin and how the bubbles slowly went down the drain.

"Ten thousand… Because you had done the same type of training…?"

"Not in one day, though I suppose I might have come close to delivering that amount of Bootshines while I grew as a Monk." Ten thousand… G'raha _definitely_ paid more attention to the bubbles. He had done his best to not focus on the Warrior's arms every time they were in the same room, having thought of how toned they were from the accidental peaks he had. His focus on the wound was enough to not let his eyes wander when he had to assist applying the salve, like now. His flesh fingers gently cleaned the old salve away with the gauze and the designated liquid, never rubbing. Carefully, he dipped his fingers into the cool liquid and applied it on the wound.

"You all had a feast after that trial, I hope…?" He asked, wiping away the remaining salve on the edges of the old bandages, closing the jar as a signal for A'viloh to start with the bandages.

"They did, or so Erik told me later. I would have joined them if I had not seen a stray aether current on the way to Theobald and told them that I would join them another day." He slowly began to wrap himself in bandages, G'raha assisting with his back.

"Aether currents?" G'raha asked curiously, resisting the twitch his ear wanted to give.

A'viloh stopped wrapping, looking over his shoulder. "Ah, yes. You have… heard of them, correct…?" Apparently not from how confused his friend looked. A'viloh smiled, continuing and handed the roll to G'raha. "They are currents of wind that adventurers need to attune to in order to be able to use mounts to fly. Most mounts have the ability to fly, but not all. They are scattered all over, not just in Eorzea but Hingashi as well. I have also seen them here in the First. You can cut once you've reached my side."

G'raha did as he was told and stuck some adhesive tape to secure the bandages. Adventurers needed to attune to them in order to be able to fly… So those currents of wind that he had read recent reports of were "aether currents"? And they were all over…?

"That was why you were traveling so much every time I…" A'viloh turned, tiling his head slightly at seeing his friend so deep in thought. They still held the bandage roll, crystal hand under their chin as their head was bowed. He softly hummed in question, catching G'raha's attention, who waved his hands at seeing the worry in A'viloh's eyes.

"M-My apologies! I-It's just that…" His shoulders drooped slightly, rubbing at his right arm. A'viloh realized quickly that it was from embarrassment. 

"When… I was ready to summon you to the First, every time I attempted to, I could never quite… get a hold of you. You see, I was still fairly new to the spell and the subject needed to be still, however, you were… always on the move each time I tried. Your hand was always outstretched as if you were… attuning to something, though I knew not what." He began to wrangle the roll of bandages, quickly putting it beside the other medical supplies and entwined his hands to keep them still. "Needless to say, it took me many years to finally perfect the spell to summon you, even while you were mobile…"

He dared not say more, his failures already in the open. He had said enough with this embarrassing truth, the Warrior did not need to know more. He was content at having learned why they were always on the move all of those years ago. He knew that time flowed differently from the Source to the First, hence why it had taken him so long. Not only that, but it had worried him when the Warrior was always so determined to get to specific locations, despite the various inhabitants chasing after him at times. These "aether currents" are also in Norvrandt, are they… 

His thoughts were abruptly cut off as he heard the Warrior snort and then bust out in laughter, trying his best to stop but failing miserably. He turned away, clutching at his sides as he tried to speak in-between his laughter. 

"A-Azeyma help me… You must have-- _snrk_ \--thought of me as insane. Oh gods, and when I would be chased around from failing to sneak around certain creatures, hahaha!" He wiped away his tears, laughing still.

"I am so sorry, my friend. I must have… made your summoning _impossible_. You see, haha, I was so busy during my time in the Far East, I did not have the chance to attune to the new ones that appeared u-until there was some semblance of peace. And that unfortunately did not happen until… hah… until I helped resolve problems with different parties." Taking a few deep breaths, a few chuckles escaped him and he did not turn to look at G'raha until he had stopped crying, giving him a wide smile.

"Azeyma preserve, I truly am sorry. I hope that I did not tire you too much. You succeeded and I am here now."

'You succeeded and I am here now.'

**I am here now.**

Many emotions swirled around his heart, tearing his eyes away from the Warrior before they reached his eyes. He was learning so much about the person whom he poured years of research over. He was freer, happier, _livelier_. His laugh… His deity, it was the same as his…!

"Yes… yes, you are…" He whispered, clasping his hands behind his back as he kept his gaze away. He squeezed them tight, throat constricting and eyes beginning to burn. Don't you dare, don't you dare, don't you _dare_. He needed to leave, quickly. 

The same easy smile came to A'viloh's lips, realizing his words too late.

**Now was the time.**

He began to change the equipment, bringing out the small flashlight from his bag and a metal tin. Another tiny potion bottle came out, G'raha recognizing it immediately. His body got tense, a dull ache passing through his crystal arm. No, no, no, he needed to _get away._

"If I may… My hearing is getting quite better and I do believe my voice is fully back. I did enough talking to prove that, I would say," the leader explained quickly, taking half a step back. He mildly succeeded in keeping his voice normal, despite how constricted his throat felt.

A'viloh frowned, setting his bag down. That was not part of the deal. "Your voice is back, yes, but you talked for a fair amount of time. I can promise you that your throat will get sore very soon. As for your ears, I did a basic check up of them yesterday, it would be best that I was more thorough today."

His throat _was_ starting to get sore, but he didn't want to give that away. There were still cotton bolls in his ears but with how close he was to the Warrior, it wasn't too much of a problem. Now, now he wanted to get away. His heart was starting to come out and it was getting harder to keep his composure. Let me get away, please--

"M-More tea will surely help along with your potions. I… I have been wanting to read that journal ever since you spoke of it." Yes, that was believable. The moment he spoke about the journal, his mind took over, curiosity getting the better of him and hope bloomed in him. Was it one of the journals he wished for?

A'viloh's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the journal, heart leaping. His journal… Oh gods, the plan. He had forgotten about it. Oh gods, oh gods.

_'Too late. Stay strong. I am here.'_

He didn't push. He saw how much G'raha wanted to leave. One last moment. Just one last moment before everything changed.

"...Alright. I will… give you the necessary potions. Let me brew a cup of tea so that you can add both medicines to it. Then I will give you the journal." Had G'raha been paying attention, he would have noticed how stiffly his Warrior had spoken. Instead, he was concentrating hard on not running out the door. He gave a polite "thank you" and briskly walked out. Once A'viloh was sure that he wasn't heard, he exhaled shakily, a hand coming over his face. Courage. Have courage.

He shoved the flashlight and tin back into his bag, quickly walking to the kitchen. He picked random sets of tea leaves, only paying some attention to what he put in the strainer and cup. Leaves, lemon, ginger, honey, brew for a few minutes. He burned his hand when some of the boiling water splashed onto his skin from how hard they shook but he could care less.

_'He won't drink it once he sees the journal, anyways.'_

Some of the tea spilled in the saucer as he all but ran out the door. He grasped the tea cup with one hand and tightening his grip on the saucer with the other. Breathe. Believe. Have faith.

When his breathing was semi-under control, he used his elbow to turn the handle, Esteem half pushing him into the room.

G'raha was sitting back at the chair, face turned towards the wall as the blanket was off one of his shoulders. A'viloh did not know what kind of struggle brewed inside him, only that it was a great one, if his sagged back gave any indication. Slowly walking over, he gently placed the cup at the far end of the table along with the two tiny potion bottles. After taking another silent breath, he briskly walked to the couch, bringing his bag over his shoulder. Ah, they forgot to treat his shoulder. No matter.

He crouched down on the other side, making sure to keep himself hidden as he placed a hand on the journal. Laying a shaking hand over the cover, he silently flipped it over, waited until his shoulders stopped shaking, and then stood.

'I beg of you, Azeyma… let me remain by his side… no matter what he chooses…'

His friend had not turned his head when A'viloh walked to the table and placed the journal face down. The Warrior’s hands remained on the back cover, standing beside the leader. He noticed how G'raha had twitched beside him, tensing more.

"...Take your time reading this. And… if I may, I have… one final request for the day." Several moments of silence passed, A'viloh taking that as a sign of his request being heard.

"...Please… let your heart be free as you read this. I want your heart to be the one to speak."

=====

He went as far from the door as he could, the kitchen being the only room he could wait in. The grand staircase was still too dark for him, the bright bathroom was out of the question and the suffocatingly quiet bedroom even less. He had forgotten to turn off the kettle, though it was thankfully on low heat. Whether he or Esteem had done it, it didn’t matter as he poured himself a cup, putting some chamomile in the strainer to hopefully calm his turning stomach.

Gods, this was worse than when everyone was holding their breath over Aymeric’s condition after the assassintation attempt. At least back then, he had kept himself busy by overcrafting and traveling all over Eorzea. He tried to keep himself out of everyone’s hair, or more so, keep himself hidden so that no one would know the stress he carried, but it became noticeable when the Innkeeper of the Drowning Welch had knocked on his door after the sixth day of him not coming out. Baderon promised to keep the situation hush-hush so long as A’viloh spoke with him when things got too rough. The Warrior never stayed at an inn past a day after that.

Here, he couldn’t craft. Everything was too loud and he barely shifted from the corner, huddled tight as the warmth from the stove kept his shivers at a minimum. He tried to continuously sip his tea but no amount of lavender could calm his nerves. He was starting to run out too.

_‘Tomestone.’_ A’viloh jumped at the faint voice in his head, the shock making his shoulder mildly ache. Oh, that’s right, he had charged it but not checked it yet.

Pulling it out, he tapped on it and was immediately blinded by the device, flipping it over as he blinked back the black spots; he must have been using it when it was sunny outside.

After some fumbling, he managed to bring the light down, brown eyes bulging when he noticed how many numbers were on his screen. He had only been gone for a week! ….Or maybe two. It took him a bit of time to go through everything, putting reminders on his tomestone about his retainers (gods, it has been _months_ since he last saw them) and his goods, that being the least of his worries. The acquaintances and friends he had given his information to had sent him several messages, many ranging from worry to full out panic, him responding to those first. Once he had weeded through them, he focused his full attention to the messages his sister had sent him.

The messages were few, but lengthy. His worry would have eaten him if he did not know how similar their experiences were, knowing well what she had gone through. She seemed to have left the situation in far better conditions than him judging from the last message she sent him. It settled some of his nerves and he sent a lengthy response back, being brief about his condition and giving barely any information on what he was up to. He swept the kitchen, cleaned the countertops, and put away yesterday’s dishes before he heard the familiar ping from his phone. By the gods, she was quick. Was she ever _not_ on her phone?

Leaning against the counter, he double checked that everything was in its place before reading the message. She was _definitely_ much better than him, describing how she had retired for the night after enjoying a massive feast the people of the Crystarium had set up for everyone far and wide. She was not very descriptive with the event, instead noticing how distant he was and asking if what he had stated was all that happened. He knew that he should be honest with her, considering how understanding and open-minded she was.

‘How can I when I barely know what is going to happen next…’ Cold fingers rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache come up from his stress. Where could he even begin?

His thumbs began to move on their own, though more deleting was done than writing. No matter how much he rewrote, nothing sounded remotely close to what he wanted to say. With a frustrated sigh, he got out of the message and went through the monotonous task of adjusting the prices for his retainers, preparing himself for the messages that _they_ would send to him as soon as he confirmed the changes.

Gods, he just wanted a steaming shower and to curl up under the covers. Maybe have a bread roll after the shower. Maybe.

=====

G’raha was still for some time after the Warrior had left. He didn’t dare turn the journal until he was sure that he would not sob all over it, his shirt only able to do so much drying.

A shiver went down his spine at his nerves coming up again, bringing up the blanket. He eyed the tea and potions, making no move to bring them closer. He would drink it as soon as he got past the first chapter. With a deep inhale, he brought the journal closer and closed his eyes, flipping it over on the count of three. Letting his fingers glide through the cover, his eyebrows furrowed at not feeling the letters of the title. Instead, his fingertips felt the edges of the design the Warrior had picked, jagged in some parts and straight in others. The design widened when his fingers trailed down, the opposite being true when they went up, a point present. A lightning bolt, perhaps?

‘Is this his journal detailing his fights with the primals?’ he wondered, letting both hands wander around the cover once more. There really wasn’t a title…

His curiosity was winning over, no longer able to keep his eyes closed. His mind wished he did. His heart did not.

The image in this pristine journal was the Syrcus Tower. The Crystal Tower. The Tower.

He couldn’t contain his shaking. His teeth chattered, despite him clenching his jaw shut. His crystal felt so incredibly heavy, needing to be rubbed. He briefly did so, his eyes never leaving the journal. He barely breathed, his fists on his lap while the hum of the Tower surrounded him. It was so loud, so apparent.

_‘Is that what you want?’_ They could never go back to how they were. He was the Crystal Exarch and he was the Warrior of Light/Darkness. That was who they were. That was who they had to be. At least… that was who he was.

“He is still human… ” came the feeble whisper, finally bringing his right hand up. His dominant hand, the first part of his body that had gone through the transformation, that was the one that should open the book. It was part of the Tower after all.

As expected, there was a Table of Contents, the number of chapters with… one worded chapter titles? How odd, the other journals had sentences, or at least a few words. The pages also looked newer, barely having been touched. He felt faint magick through the book, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Preservation magick. But… what for? He then noticed several loose parchment paper in between the pages, looking over at the stack that was there when he first came into the room. Did his Warrior just do this?

“The more you question, the more time you waste with your silly thoughts,” he muttered, flipping to the first chapter, Gates. His memory might have been foggy in certain areas involving the Warrior but not when it came to the expedition. After all, he had poured countless years to reach that point and even more hours during. The Warrior’s writing was not as expressive as his later writing, still quite detailed with the journey itself and barely putting himself in it. He still read with great interest what they had to say (the Eight Sentinels and different types of aethersand needed to get through the guards) and eventually reached the first loose parchment. With great surprise, he found it to be the first page of their journey through the First, the number one at the bottom right. He leaned forward with great anticipation, ears forward.

~What a strange land. Everything is so still, so quiet. Lifeless. And so much purple…~

~That merchant, he… he died. I talked to them just a quarter of a bell before. If I had stayed, would I have perished that quickly too? Gods, where _am_ I?~

~That tall Captain, she was so stern. And that man, the one that brought me here. _He_ brought the Scions too. He seems welcoming enough, but I do not trust him. He took away my family. I _will_ figure out where they are, even if I have to resort to questionable methods.~

G’raha blanched at that, needing to re-read the last part. Such writing was prominent in the beginnings of the Warrior’s version of Heavensward, but not this dark. He thought such actions were past the Warrior, his close vigilance of the Warrior every time he tried to summon him being a clear indication. Or so he thought. The rest of the pages spoke of how he questioned the Crystal Exarch about G’raha Tia and their comings and goings through the Crystarium. Still, the Warrior did not trust him and G’raha’s stomach twisted. They were past that, surely.

The second chapter, titled Run, went back to the earlier adventures of the Warrior. The title was fitting from how much running around they had to do to get the Fire and Earth aethersands, the leader taking pity upon the Warrior. It was very reminiscent of their first journal and he had a feeling that other ones had the same theme. The next set of parchment came into view, G’raha needing to take a sip of the lukewarm tea from how dry his throat felt. Oh, right, the potions.

They detailed their first Lightwarden experience and how the sky had parted for them, finally revealing the night that everyone so dearly wanted. G’raha’s lungs filled with air as he remembered that experience, still bringing tears to his eyes. He quickly wiped them away before they fell on the dry ink.

~I need to make sure to stick close to Alisaie in these coming days. Bringing mercy to her closest friend in the First, that was definitely not easy for her. I’ll ask around the markets where I could buy some tea and invite her to my room for a long chat; the Crystal Exarch did say that they would accept my gil. I will also invite Alphinaud after, we have much to catch up on.

Speaking of the Crystal Exarch… he is incredibly strong. He can easily shift from sending fire to the enemies, protecting us from an upcoming blow, to then healing any wounds I received in a blink of an eye. He also told me where everyone was and I found Alphy and Alisaie without trouble. It seems that I was wrong about him. I need to apologize to him as soon as I get the chance.~

A relieved smile came to G’raha’s face, remembering how the Warrior spoke with him in private on the second night they were at the Pendants. He had no idea when the Warrior had the chance to buy a pastry and an apple from the markets, thinking that he had kept a good enough surveillance on the Warrior from his worry of the Light in the Warrior’s body. But then lo and behold, they had asked the gatekeeper if the Exarch was accepting visitors and had taken him to the Ocular. Needless to say, G’raha was very grateful for his hood from how remorseful the Warrior felt, apologizing profusely and expressing much shame at his rudeness. It took him a few days for his heart to not beat out of his chest each time he had “bumped” into the Warrior, and he still had the apple and pastry, perfectly preserved and hidden inside one of his drawers.

He turned the page, the third chapter, Aethersand, being next. He felt the same kind of shame the Warrior felt in the previous page from remembering the giddiness he felt so long ago when first meeting the Warrior of Light, his current shame blossoming within him. This was their first time meeting G’raha, or his voice, to be precise, and he was not disappointed nor hurt at reading how annoyed the Warrior was at being played at. He pushed that emotion down, again hoping that he had done enough to make up for such a terrible time the Warrior experienced. Newer parchment came into view, detailing how he had to escape Lakeland with Thancred, Minfillia, and the twins.

~The Exarch, will he be alright? If this Ran’jit gets to him, would he survive? I barely did and am now on the run… again… Please, whomever from the Twelve is here, please… protect him. And Lyna. And the citizens of the Crystarium. We’ll survive, so please, be with -them-.~

G’raha rubbed his nose with his sleeve, a slight smirk coming up. ‘If only you knew that _I_ was the one who protected _you_ …’ He was still incredibly touched by the gesture, tail resting on his lap. That smirk came straight off his face when he remembered the times he _wasn’t_ there, such as in Rak’tika and how powerless he felt when Y’shtola had to be plucked from the Lifestream yet again, and by Emet-Selch, no less. He continued to read, now having a foul taste in his mouth and drank more from the now-cold tea.

The fourth chapter, appropriately named Hell, spoke in great detail of the Warrior’s journey through the Labyrinth of the Ancients, G’raha faintly recalling how warm the place felt when they went in after the Warrior was done. They also briefly wrote on how they were mildly impressed at how G’raha guessed the Warrior’s last adversary from just a brief description. He put down any sense of pride that he felt, those times having long past. The next parchment paper was much dirtier than the rest, the handwriting quick and frantic. G’raha’s brows furrowed, reading the messy scribbles with much attention.

~Lakeland is under attack. I need to go and help, no, I need to bring down the anchors. Wait, what of the people? They… They need to escape!

...No, no, it is not like that time. No, they must remain in and I… should go out… Yes, yes. The anchors, the anc--~

“Was there another time that he went through this…?” G’raha whispered, the scratchings of a dry quill ripping through the parchment.

~I could not find him. Alphinaud told me that he would be helping with the barrier, but I could not find him. I had to make sure he was alright. Is he safe? Azeyma, please, I beg of you, protect him. Light his way and give him the strength to survive. I must go help in Lakeland, they need me.~

So it wasn’t his imagination. He had been deep within the Tower, preparing the barrier when he felt the faint presence of the Warrior in the spire. He did not focus enough on them from needing the strength to protect his people. To think, he had been fervently praying for Azeyma to guide the Warrior to victory and _they_ had prayed the same for him. His fingers lightly went over the last sentence, focusing on the next. Much of the paper was warped, the ink smudging here and there.

~So many dead. But more survived. I shudder to think how it would have been if the Scions and I were not there. The wounded, they are helping with the bodies. I need to keep going, I need to keep healing. I need to keep moving the bodies. Exarch, are you okay? Please be okay… ~

He didn’t stop the tears that he shed after reading that, the many faces of the mourning still fresh in his mind. That was one of the worst massacres they had experienced in a great while, though unfortunately not _the_ worst one. In this one, all that had passed received a headstone, even if a body was never found. It was all that the families had of their dead loved ones, and while the Exarch did not want any more responsibilities for those overworked, how could he deny the pleas of the mourning families?

There was a shortage of headstones, along with hands to assist with the burials. He did not see the Warrior much at the time, but he knew that they had overworked themselves to the bone to get the stone from the outskirts of Lakeland once they had overheard the project. Lyna personally saw to banning the Warrior from the place after sneaking past the post for the second time. Apparently, Katliss had told his granddaughter that the Warrior looked ready to drop after hauling stones three times his weight to the stone makers.

The Warrior complied with the ban after he had made a deal with Lyna in them chatting more often. The able-ones could do the rest, the Warrior amazingly having completed more than half of the project already. G’raha had asked once what they spoke about many days after, both out of curiosity and concern when he had heard the extent of the Warrior’s helpfulness. She only gave him a small, soft smile and a vague answer, something about how the purple carrots were ripe again. A day after, he fully paid attention to her when she gave her daily report to him, noticing a great weight off her shoulders. He was once again indebted to the Warrior.

Acknowledgement. What a curious title. He quickly found out why, rubbing his eyes as his heart slowly came out its dark hole. They spoke of how they were not allowed to get closer to the Tower until the Sons found more of what was inside the structure, which the Warrior had hesitantly agreed, only because of not wanting to cause the researchers trouble. Then came that first night, and how the then eccentric miqo’te had stolen the Warrior’s bag and the one-sided fight that ensued…

~I refuse to be that scholar’s “courier”, much less his “entertainer”. I will tell Cid that I have other things to take care of as a Scion. If I tell Minfillia of my plight, she might go along with my plan. Stupid, childish cat.~

G’raha winced, perhaps not completely knowing how the Warrior felt about him. After this, he will apologize to them. It might have been a long time ago, but the Warrior wasn’t the only one who felt shame at their actions. The Warrior did leave for a little while, those days a complete blur for G’raha. He only remembered how much more space he had in that small tent. When the Warrior came back, apparently from Cid asking Minfillia if the Warrior was done with their duties from the Sons needing assistance in getting through the massive pile of Allagan tomes, they were none too pleased and their writing showed it. They were incredibly detailed at how utterly annoying G’raha was, and how infuriated they got from how quickly G’raha could translate the tomes. And yet… that slowly began to change.

Some days had passed between entries, the Warrior’s feelings over the scholar becoming slightly less annoyed. They had mentioned how G’raha had answered one of their questions with a question, helping the Warrior realize the answer on their own. It was a knack that he had, one that he acquired when he was a child, shunning him from the older children of his tribe as the younger ones were always afraid of him. Yet, what they viewed as malignant was one of his greatest strengths in the Isle of Val, and it helped the Warrior. More days passed and their writing was more complimentary towards him.

~Again, he helped me find the answer to the riddle that had frustrated me for days. He isn’t as childish as I thought. Though he is six summers older than I, he doesn’t use his wisdom against me. On the contrary, he… really wants to see me succeed. He makes me think… ~

G’raha’s head tilted, that last sentence familiar. Makes him think… Didn’t his Warrior say the other day that the leader made him think? Why is that… _They_ had made _him_ think, not the other way around.

~Yet again, he helped me. I should be the one helping them, but it is _he_ who is helping _me_. We are halfway through the tomes, thanks to him. He is wide awake when I wake from slumber, though I know he did not sleep a wink. Isn’t he tired? I should bring him breakfast.~

~He thanked me and we shared the bread I brought. He smiled so easily when I asked him how he could be so active with such little sleep. There was no teasing, just pure joy. He told me that it was because he was doing what he loved that kept him going. Doing what he loved… He asked me if I had something that I love to do and I could not find an answer, no matter how much I thought about it. He says things that make me think.~

That memory faintly came back to G’raha, not the question that he had asked, but how… lost the Warrior looked when he had asked him. He might have lightly patted his shoulder from not knowing what more to say, have given a quick generic answer, and brought their attention to his latest tome. What did he say to them?

“I was doing what I loved the most… Another similarity that my younger self and I have...” G’raha murmured, turning the page and finding another loose parchment paper. His love for Allagan history got him to the Tower, and his love for his Warrior was what saved their life. It was funny how fate and destiny worked.

~They are always so close. Do they smell my lavender? I always try to move away from them, just enough for them to not inquire, but they always come back. I get their attention, though, by letting out one of my thoughts when something interesting catches my eye. They really are interesting tomes. I wonder, do I make them think like they do for me? I sure hope so and that I’m not making an idiot out of myself… It’s hard to always be thinking like a scholar… ~

“Your musings were always so interesting to me, A’viloh… You would catch things that I never thought of… ” G’raha whispered, shuddering when the Warrior’s name fell from his lips. Ah… he shuddered just the same when they would say… He quickly shook his head, his back aching from how long he had been bent over. He eyed the couch, gulping down the rest of the tea and went to sit on the cushion, his back welcoming the comfort.

~We’re almost done with the tomes and we’re nowhere near learning what’s inside the Tower. I’ve had to leave a few times from other duties requiring my attention. He gets pouty when he learns of me leaving and tells me of the amount of tomes that I will need to decipher when I come back. When I come back… How long can we keep going like this…? I… don’t want to leave. He listens to me. Really listens to me. I should be more like him. I like listening to him. I notice that the other Sons and Daughters don’t really listen to him… ~

So they had noticed. It wasn’t a secret that many of them had thought of him strange, not able to keep up with him in conversation. They knew Allagan history and of the texts but their expertise were more general. While they attended to other duties, his main one was to decipher texts and report to Rammbroes and Cid. The Warrior provided him the companionship that he needed and so he didn’t make an attempt to converse with the others unless absolutely necessary. Was this around the time when they became his inspiration?

The next set of parchment spoke of the Warrior’s journey through Amh Araeng. He quickly skimmed the parts that detailed the Warrior’s ailments from the Light, knowing that if he fully read them, he would fully stop reading the journal altogether.

~We just defeated the second to last Lightwarden. I feel so strange, so tired… But I need to keep going. I can’t falter. Y’shtola and Ryne, they keep looking at me with so much worry… I felt something when I absorbed the Light. Something cracked within me. I feel it with each step I take. I have to be vigilant, I can’t show them my pain. I’ll keep smiling at them, even if my lungs burn at times.

I miss him. I miss our talks. I miss how we would walk around aimlessly in the Crystarium or when I would find him in the Cabinet of Curiosity. I miss reading whatever he returned back to Moren. I miss speaking with him in the Ocular and sitting on those steps with him. I miss the deep conversations we would have about… anything. He is always so secretive, and he asks me so much about me. Not just about my adventures but… about me. Me as a person. He listens to me so much. And I love listening to him. He has so much to say and stops himself whenever he feels he has bored me. He loves his people and this land so much. I always urge him to keep talking and I hope that me being earnest is what keeps him going. I hope I don’t bore him. He doesn’t give that indication, thankfully. He’s far too kind.

Now I have to be so… quiet. I can’t give too much energy or else I start coughing, and there’s only so many times I can say that the desert sand is getting into my throat. It burns so much.

I have to be strong for him. Kholusia, that is where the last Lightwarden is. When this is all over, I’ll go straight to him with the biggest smile I can muster. Then he can finally be at peace and no longer worry over the safety of his people. Then we can talk more. He doesn’t have to reveal who he is behind the hood, everyone has a right to their secrets. I just want to sit on those stairs again and talk to him more. I want to know more about him. I want to ask him how he is for the day. What did he eat? What book did he find interesting this week? How is his city? How does he feel? Does he like tea? Maybe we can share some sandwiches together.~

“Oh my Warrior,” he feebly spoke, tears obscuring his vision again. He knew. For those brief moments that he had taken the Warrior’s Light, he knew of the Warrior’s pain. They had traveled so far with that pain for so long. How could they still look at him and smile?

And they were so interested in him. In the Exarch. All this time, he wanted to hear more about them and _they_ were the ones that wanted to know more about _him._ So many questions, he could almost feel his Warrior’s emotions on his fingertips as they went over the dry ink. How… How did he not see that…?

Time. That was the sixth chapter, one where the Warrior spoke of the enigmas Doga and Unei and their adventures in Syrcus Tower once the doors opened by their hands. He remembered how awestruck he was when such massive doors opened, the people in the Crystarium having similar expressions as him when he willed the doors open and later gave access for the guards to do the same. Here, the Warrior wrote like a scholar would, G’raha almost hearing the words come from his ancestors. When did they have the chance to write so much in such little time? G’raha did not know, but then again, his memory was quite muddled at that point from shock in learning all of the history in a single bell.

“Like how you did when coming to the First,” G’raha realized, sinking deeper into the couch, leaning into his crystal knuckle as he flipped the page with his other hand.

~Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine such a thing would happen. G’raha looks just as shocked, maybe even more than I.

He also looks so… pensive. He’s gone quiet. That luster in his eyes, it’s… it’s gone. He won’t look at me. He’s lost in thought, just like when he’s found something important in one of the tomes.~

~I need to go into the Syrcus Tower and stop Emperor Xande. He can’t come with me, of course, but… What should I do? I feel like something’s changed.~

~I’ve stopped him. He’s gone. But… now Doga and Unei are gone. And Nero too. He saved me. I guess I didn’t have to do anything to bring that shine back into his eyes. But he’s… he’s still different. He’s more distant. I don’t like it. I don’t want that. Don’t be like me. It’s painful, don’t be like me.~

~He spoke to me. He asked me if he could come with me into the void. I want to keep him safe, I should have said no, but that light in his eyes, I agreed before I could really think it through. I’ll keep him safe. Azeyma, help me keep him safe.~

And they did. They would keep him hidden whenever they battled the voidsent, him only being able to watch and silently cheer from afar, along with cheering on the rest of the adventurers. One day, he vowed to be among them. Or at least, be able to find such capable people to assist them. Funny how life worked. The loose parchment paper was quite dirty, but the contents clear. He sat up straight, clenching his jaw as a single word immediately popped out. Again, the paper was warped, much more than the other set.

~We raised the Talos! It worked! I can only show my joy in writing, but that’s fine. We’re one step closer in getting to Vauthry and finally putting a stop to this madness.~

~He’s gone. Where did he go? I knew he looked too pale, but I thought it was from the light hitting him--it doesn’t matter. I need to find him. I’ll cough some Light out and then go find him.~

His hands shook more as he gripped the journal tightly, fully trembling as he read the smudged handwriting.

~”The future is where my destiny awaits.” I heard it. It was faint but… I heard it. It _is_ you. I knew it. You’re G’raha. G’raha, you’re here.

I knew it. _I knew it._ It’s you. You’re here. You’re him. No wonder I fell for the Crystal Exarch so easily. Just like how I wanted to listen to you all of those years ago, I wanted to listen to him. You listened to me so attentively long ago too. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you.

All of what you said… you were speaking about me, didn’t you? You want to go on adventures with me… don’t you?~

“Yes… It was you,” he breathed, a tear dropping on the parchment. He brought the journal up, knowing that he couldn’t stop his tears. Not when his desires were known to the Warrior.

~After this, let’s go. We’ll go wherever you want. I’ll take you anywhere. We’ll soar, we’ll swim, we’ll walk, we’ll run. We’ll read, we’ll talk, we’ll be together. We can finally be together.~

“It is not to be, my Warrior. We musn’t,” he wept, bringing the journal closer to him as he let the parchment drop to the floor. Keeping his sleeve close to him to catch his tears, he pressed on.

The seventh chapter, Inquiry, brought him a chill that he hasn’t felt since he saw what was becoming of his right arm. He was getting close to the end, the pages getting thinner, the newer parchment paper almost gone. He quickly turned to the first page, cursing himself as some of the parchment fell out. Thank the Twelve that they were numbered. Gates, Run, Aethersand, Hell, Acknowledgement, Time, Inquiry, Azeyma… Yes, he was nearing the end--

\--wait.

Gates, Run, Aethersand, Hell, Acknowledgement, Time, Inquiry, Azeyma. 

“No… ” He refused to see it. The journal almost fell from his hands at how quickly he turned to the current page, the blanket pooled at his lap as he read fervently.

No, no, no. What, what _is_ this?

The next note was hastily scribbled sideways, most likely from the Warrior trying to write without anyone seeing.

~Thank the Twelve that none of the voidsent noticed him. It had been hard to keep him safe from how many there were, but we made it. Who knew that his small stature would work to our advantage. All that’s left is the main voidsent.~

~We made it out! I have never run so fast in my life and I hope I never do. Nero made it out too, but Doga and Unei… You have done what your ancestors wanted. Thank you. We won’t forget you, this I swear.~

~Both of his eyes are red now. I thought it would unnerve me but they make him look so… regal. Or is it because he’s done with his life’s work and he feels some sense of accomplishment? He… doesn’t look accomplished. On the contrary, he looks… worse. He’s more pensive and is barely acknowledging us.~

~I asked him what was wrong and he said to not worry and that he was simply tired. He finally looked at me in the eye and gave me such a bright smile. It was so warm. I think that’s the first real smile I’ve seen from him before Doga and Unei got here. Did he smile because of me or to reassure me?~

~He’s not sleeping. He’s pretending to be asleep. I had to step out to get more blankets, he was shivering so much. I hope they help.

What should I do? It’s over… I don’t want this to end. I really, really enjoyed this journey. I know I said I didn’t when we first started but I didn’t know any better. Is this my punishment? I should have enjoyed our time more. Now it’s--

What if I ask him to come with me? He could join the Scions and then he can stay here in Eorzea. That way, he doesn’t have to go back to that school. We can go on more adventures. I should tell him. I’ll tell him first thing in the morning.~

G’raha had to stop himself, weeping too hard to see the rest. He knew the rest of the story. He knew how it would end. He didn’t want it to end.

“It’s not to be. It shouldn’t be.”

He was horrified when he turned the page and saw the gigantic writing of the Warrior along with sickly white all over the parchment. He felt no Light, but the stains were still there. He kept his distance, breathing shallowly as he covered his mouth with a hand. It was all he could do to not bolt out of the room.

~No. No, no, no, no. No. No.

Bring him back. Bring him back, bring him back, bringhimbackbringhimbackbringhimback

PLEASE. I HAVE FOUGHT SO HARD. I HAVE DONE WHAT WAS ASKED OF ME. WHY? WHY WOULD YOU TAKE HIM AWAY?

He was there. He was truly there. He was… **he was going to die.** **For my sake. He was**

Please. I beg of you, please, bring him back. Oh no, oh no, the pai--~

~I know the truth. We will go to him. I need to get him back. I need to tell him. Not again, not again, not againnotagainnotagainnotagai--~

Azeyma.

~He’s gone.

I couldn’t tell him.

I was too late.

He wanted to do this. He needed to do this. So he sealed himself up. He left doing what he loved the most. It was never meant to be.~

Another set of parchment, different from the rest was tucked behind that page. It was barely half a page and G’raha wiped his tears, squinting to read the tiny letters.

~I finally realized it. It took me many years, but I finally realized it. More than anything, I wanted to be what he loved the most. I am who I am because of him. I lo--~

“....W… What?” He lifted the final parchment paper, the journal slipping off his lap. This one was just as white as the last one, perhaps more. The writing was normal, more sane. It was fresher, cleaner. Newer.

~We know where you are, G’raha. We’re coming to save you. Azeyma, the Twelve, Hydaelyn… Give me the strength to save him. If I can see him one last time, you can do whatever you want with me. Just please, give me the strength to save him. Let me tell him what I couldn’t all those years ago.

I love h--

=====

A’viloh jumped several fulms into the air when the door to the kitchen was shoved open. By some grace of the Twelve he did not drop his tomestone, but he was sure that he accidentally turned it off, his messages to his retainers gone. He could only put the device down as a disheveled G’raha came in, clutching one of his loose parchment none-too-gently. His hair was a mess, ears back and his tail… his poor matted tail fluffed out in extreme agitation. Despite him coming in with the Fury behind his heels, he dared not come closer than the middle of the kitchen. A’viloh leaned back, his tail automatically wrapping around his waist as he clutched at the counter, not knowing how to respond to such an entrance.

“What… is this… ”

A’viloh glanced at the parchment that G’raha held out, still grasping it for dear life. He refused to look at the Warrior, A’viloh noticing how much he was shaking, how his shoulders hid the sides of his neck and how white his flesh hand was from how tightly he had it balled. He looked back at G’raha, slowly relaxing as he tried to answer in a way that wouldn’t further agitate the miqo’te.

“I am not sure what part you have in your hand. May I… see it…?” He asked gently, not taking a step closer until his friend gave his consent.

For several moments they stood a good distance from each other, nothing more being said. G’raha did not step closer, slowly bringing the parchment to his side as his shaking shoulders slowly came down. Finally, he lifted his head. A’viloh’s eyes widened at how openly they showed what was in his heart.

Confusion. Fear. Lost. Pain.

It was true that his weeping clouded his red hues, but the emotions were still there. And G’raha had no idea what to do with them. He was as lost as when he was forced to wake all of those centuries ago.

A’viloh closed his eyes, pushing himself off the counter. He heard a slight crinkle, him opening them to find G’raha clutching the paper even tighter. Even if he did not know what part he had, judging from his expression, it was one of the last ones, if not _the_ last one. He smiled slightly, speaking calmly.

“That,” he nodded to G’raha’s hand, “holds what I have been wanting to tell you for a long time.”

“You… Y-You want to stay… because of this…” G’raha grasped for words, his mind and his heart telling him very different things. His mind won at the moment.

“...Do not… Do not do this to yourself… “ A’viloh’s smile softened at hearing his plea. He knew.

“The one that you feel all of this for, they are back at the Source. When they wake, show them all of this. How you feel, what you think… How much you want them at your side, _tell them that._ All of that will make him happier than finding the secrets of the Tower--nay--happier than the first time he laid eyes on it. Please, believe me on that.” More tears fell as he mustered the best reassuring smile that he could. It stayed for only a few moments, his heart overtaking his mind’s logic, not letting him do any more as the bottom of his lip trembled.

“I do. And I will.” He blinked, a small sound of confusion escaping his lips, nose beyond stuffed. A’viloh’s eyes warmed with the love that he could finally start to show, G’raha’s own widening.

“The one that I fell for, I know that they are back at the Source.” He took a small step forward, G’raha taking a full step back.

Don’t do this, don’t do this, _don’t do this._

“You originally came from the Source. I believe you read that I fell for the Crystal Exarch, correct?” Another small step forward, one step back. A’viloh held out his hands, palms up, smile turning reassuring. Welcoming. Patient. He locked onto G’raha’s face, and then his eyes, not taking another step until _they_ had locked onto his eyes.

“I cannot love one and not the other. To me, they are the same, even if you see it otherwise. I love both. I love you both so much. That is why I asked what you would like to be called,” he said soothingly, taking a few more slow steps forward, palms still up. G’raha’s legs refused to move, no matter how much he willed them. Was it his heart stopping him? It couldn’t have been the Tower, _he_ had control over it.

He was starting to look up at his Warrior from how close they were, lip continuing to tremble. He kept shaking, but said nothing, ears pinned to his head.

“You do not have to answer me today, I have used all of my requests for the day. And… ” He was a fulm away from him, bringing his hands down once he knew that the person he loved the most wouldn’t run away, his body almost shaking from how hard G’raha shook. His love was terrified. Terrified that what he wanted couldn’t be granted to him.

“...you are speaking from the heart. So I ask it: what does it want to say?”

G’raha finally moved, slowly shaking his head as he bit his lip, letting his head fall as he squeezed his eyes shut. He shouldn’t, this was not right.

“It’s okay to be afraid. I’m scared too.” His eyes shot open, keeping his head down. They were scared? No… They were fearless--

_Let me tell him what I couldn’t all those years ago._

“I’m scared that I made a mistake that keeps you at a distance.”

_Please. I beg of you, please, bring him back._

“The last thing that I want is to hurt you or to fear me.”

_“I appreciate it, G’raha. Mayhap you can assist in holding a pair of bandages.”_

“It is as I wrote. I wish to listen to you. I want to read the same books that you do. I want to talk to you about anything and everything. I want to take walks with you around the Crystarium, or Lakeland if you’re feeling adventurous. Or the Tower, if you need your strength. I want to sit on those stairs in the Ocular with you. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, just being near you is enough. I just want to be with you.”

_“Again, if anything happens, no matter how small, wake me up, yes?”_

“There is so much more that I want. And all of it revolves around the scholar who helped me figure out my heart.”

_You are far too important to me._

Gently, he placed a curled finger under G’raha’s chin, slowly making him look up. He let them take their time trailing their eyes up until they reached his, his heart slowly, oh so slowly coming to the surface. He managed to be an ilm apart, still giving him the opportunity to choose.

“I have told you what I want. So I ask: what does your heart want? What do _you_ want?”

_Dreaming was one of the few states of mind that would take him away from the heaviness of his crystal skin and take away the faint soreness that would linger on his bones. When he dreamed, he was as healthy as he was when awake. When he dreamed, his crystal would be lighter. But what really mattered to him, what really made him feel alive, was that he could dream of that one special person._

‘My heart… It wants…’

His bones creaked as he closed the distance, keeping his chest flushed against A’viloh’s. Ice cold fingers grasped his sleeves, getting a good grip on the fabric. A’viloh’s eyes softened to the point of tears, G’raha looking deep into A’viloh’s eyes with one of the softest expressions the Warrior had ever seen.

_He could dream them there, doing some mundane task, or dream them with him. And they would be so, so happy to see him. Their smile would reach their eyes and they would always shine so brightly. One eye would settle on his bloodied one like the warm hue of a candle, while the other would suck him in like the pleasant warmth that would settle on his stomach after taking a sip from his cinnamon tea that he rarely made._

Slowly, he went onto the tips of his toes, reaching up to press his forehead against A’viloh’s, his Warrior’s sleeves coming down slightly from using them as leverage and to keep him steady.

_But they weren’t cruel. When their foreheads touched, they would always bring him back down and plant him firmly on the floor._

A’viloh did just that. Once G’raha was back on the floor, their foreheads never parted. He was as close as he possibly could to those soft, adoring brown eyes. The love that poured out of them, it was blinding. _He_ was blinding

Equally cold hands grasped his hips, G’raha shivering once but never looked away. He took in all of the strength that his Warrior was giving him, his rapidly beating heart syncing with theirs.

_They were the warmth that he wished he could just fall into, envelop his scarred and broken body like a protective blanket, and just be there. He always felt lighter than air and time would always stop between them. Everything would be just right._

“I want… ” A’viloh slowly wrapped his arms around G’raha’s lower back, holding him closer still. Their knees touched, G’raha’s arms against A’viloh’s chest, his hands grasping his Warrior’s soft cotton shirt. Time stopped. Everything… was right.

“I want… you to call me by my name.”

... _and those eyes would ask what their lips would not._

_**May I?** _

_Yes. His body would always say yes._

"I love you, G'raha Tia."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhh, I hope and pray that the ending was alright >
> 
> Onto the content creators! One author and two artists, along with an art piece that I think really captures the end scene perfectly and I am so glad that I managed to find it when I finished editing this chapter. For the author, I knew I wanted to mention this author ever since I finished this multi-fic chapter and started posting it with ideas of acknowledging and praising other content creators. I can safely say that they were one of the first authors, along with the others that I mentioned in my other chapters, that got me into writing again, just from reading their stories. Their story is my go-to one when it comes to G’raha fics, along with other authors and I have actively set aside time to fully immerse myself into their creations each time I have re-read them. And that is AuroraRayne with “Adagio” and “Throw Wide the Gates”. There is so much I can say about them that I draw a blank on how I can begin. Their interpretation of G’raha is astounding and I can always hear his voice when they write about him. Their depictions of the WoL are refreshing and they compliment the leader so well. Please, please, _please_ give their work a chance, you will be in a daze when you finish, just like when you’re done reading a good book.
> 
> The second artist is @C_E_00fff0 on Twitter. Their artwork is so, so soft and bright. Their use of space and light colors (I’m not an artist by any means, so please forgive me for sounding ignorant) really brings so much air into my lungs from how… free their art looks. Please look at their art, you will definitely not be disappointed!
> 
> Before we part, that art piece that I promised. I mentioned this artist in Chapter 4 of this fic and found the piece of artwork that I tried my best to capture in the last scene of this chapter. It can be found here https://twitter.com/14_enione/status/1229489466789654528 along with more of their lovely creations.
> 
> As always, thank you so, so much for all of the love that you have given this fic. I will forever be grateful for the amount of time that you all have spent with this series and for leaving so many wonderful gifts. Thank you, thank you, a thousand thank yous.
> 
> Please stay healthy, stay safe, be well, and I will see you in the Table of Contents chapter! ^^


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